


PRONTO NOS VEREMOS OTRA VEZ

by hotel_raleigh



Category: Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst with a Happy Ending, Blow Jobs, Canon-Typical Violence, Cunnilingus, Dirty Talk, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Everyone lives/Nobody dies, F/M, Face-Sitting, Hand Jobs, Heavy-handed metaphors, I will add tags as I go, Introspection, Jyn Erso-centric, Jyn's abandonment issues, Miscommunication, More Cunnilingus, POV Jyn Erso, Past Child Abuse, Praise Kink, Smoking, Tenderness, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, Voice Kink, Voyeurism, but Cassian gets a very good look in, but only to advance the jyn/cassian I swear, cassian has 2 speeds only: wary distrust or utter devotion, cassian's strong catholic guilt energy, chinga la migra babey, disguises, except krennic, he can choke, hiding with your reluctant ally in a bathroom stall is actually something that can be so personal, jyn gives cassian an ulcer, jyn is a goddess who deserves it, jyn is with melshi for like 2 seconds, kind of, please don't examine the plot too closely, plus the happy ending my bbs deserved, reckoning with trauma, reincarnation???, reluctant allies to friends to lovers, rogue one is the best star war do not @ me, some very unsubtle discussion of American immigration policy, the mortifying and painful ordeal of being KNOWN, they are both big softies on the inside, this fic has it all, understanding! redemption! forgiveness!, viva mexico, your boy sets up shop okay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-28
Updated: 2021-01-30
Packaged: 2021-03-13 20:48:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 68,686
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29034936
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hotel_raleigh/pseuds/hotel_raleigh
Summary: "Jyn felt like she was walking through a fun house. Everywhere she turned, images wavered and mutated in trick mirrors, illusions flickered in the heat and sun of the desert. She couldn’t recognize who was friend and who was foe."Jyn goes undercover in an attempt to find her estranged father, who has suddenly and mysteriously disappeared after developing a powerful chemical weapon for trafficking kingpin Orson Krennic. Looking for answers at Krennic's desert compound, she meets Will, a narco with a worryingly sharp gaze, and learns that everything is not as it seems. She is forced to confront the ghosts of her past, the maze of her present, and the looming specter of her future.
Relationships: Cassian Andor/Jyn Erso
Comments: 62
Kudos: 56





	1. YO TE LLEVO AUNQUE NO VENGAS A MI LADO

**Author's Note:**

> Hi everyone! I'M BAAACK  
> This story has been knocking around in my head for a while now, and I was finally able to get it down on paper. It kind of turned into a monster, but I had so much fun writing it. I'm so, so excited to share it and I hope you guys will enjoy it! I realize that this movie is like 5 years old, but - what can you do???
> 
> Title and chapter names from the gorgeous song "Pronto Nos Veremos Otra Vez" by Haciendo el Mal. Go listen. Really. If you, like me, don't speak Spanish, the title means: We'll meet again soon. 
> 
> On the note of language (I'll try to keep it short):  
> 1\. I based ethnicity/nationality on character's ACCENT mainly. I made Jyn from Yorkshire despite her RP accent because she spent most of her life with the Separatists or in London. I had just watched God's Own Country and wanted Jyn to have had a quiet farm life as a kid, ok??? Bodhi is a Londoner. Melshi is Scottish. Krennic is Australian. Esso is a posh twat. Han is American. The non-native English speakers were a bit more complex.  
> 2\. I was born in England, but have lived in the States for most of my life. Therefore, I can't really say this is britpicked, but I did try???  
> 3\. The only important native Spanish speaker in this is Cassian. I made him from Mexico City, because that's where Diego Luna is from. I tried to avoid using Spanish as much as possible, because I didn't want to embarrass myself, but I did use some of the fantastic slang from Mexico. It was sourced almost exclusively from the wonderful and hilarious Mexican TV show Club de Cuervos, which is on Netflix. go watch it!!! Most of the remainder is either set phrases or from song lyrics. A small percentage I translated myself, but I did try to confirm with a few different sources. If you speak Spanish, please feel free to correct my dumb gringa self.  
> 4\. Like with Cassian, for the rest of the characters I used the actor's country of origin. Galen is Danish. Chirrut and Baze are Chinese.
> 
> phew ok. one last thing: I know literally nothing about drug or arms trafficking, or science, or forgery, or spy craft. I did some research, but mostly I wound up vaguely handwaving things for plot purposes, as you will probably see shortly. 
> 
> This baby will be 4 chapters. All are written.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title translation: ok so llevar seems to have a few different meanings, and, with the song's lack of context, it's a bit hard to how exactly it's being used. It seems to mean something along the lines of to take or carry in this instance. Therefore, this title roughly translates to "I take you/I carry you even when you aren't by my side/when you don't come to my side." Spanish speakers, I am very open to suggestions!!!
> 
> TW for some slimy behavior from Krennic & co., mainly in the form of leering, etc., and some aggressive unwanted sexual advances. Nothing too graphic.

Of all the permutations of existence granted Jyn Erso, this one was by far the cruelest. Her body was embracing Cassian Andor’s on the blood-hot beach, the sand liquefying under their unmoving feet. Their deaths were as their lives were: quick and painful and serving some plan or interest they did not understand.

They took Scarif along with them. Everything and everyone they valued had been long gone, or was mercilessly incinerated that day. No one was left to shed tears at their passing. Their names would be forgotten. Their bodies were burnt up entirely until only soul remained.

Their deaths were as their lives were, save one thing: his hand was held in hers, and neither was alone. The Force took pity. She watched their souls somersault across the sky, and gave them one more chance. 

***

_Sinaloa, Mexico_

_Present day_

Jyn had always found lying very easy. She wasn’t sure what that said about her. Something bad, probably. She stared at her reflection in the cracked rearview mirror of her car. Brown eyes looked back, framed by the wispy blond fringe of her wig. The desert heat was making them curl slightly. Her hands were trembling violently, so she jammed them under her thighs. She didn’t know why she was so nervous; she hardly recognized herself, so how would Krennic look at her and see Jyn Erso? Who was that, even? The little girl, frightened and alone, nearly suffocating to death in a heating vent? The flint-hard soldier in Saw’s militia? The pale ghost in a prison uniform? Jyn Erso barely existed anymore.

It wasn’t that, then, that was setting her nerves to jangling. Krennic and his people would believe her, especially with Bodhi’s introduction, she was sure of it. It was more the sense that something big, something life-changing—potentially life-ending, she thought with a grimace—was imminent. Was it too late to run? Too late to nip this in the bud, this thing that felt seismic in its possible ramifications? She felt it, rising like a tidal wave, hanging over her head. But if she ever wanted to see her father again, she had to do this. She felt a kind of animal panic at the thought, like she was being backed into a corner she knew she couldn’t escape from.

Where the _fuck_ was Bodhi? This was all his fault. If they survived tonight, she was going to kill him. If she survived seeing Krennic again.

She considered the fact that the last time she’d seen him was also the last time she’d seen her parents. She remembered his oleaginous smile, his grasping hands, his manic sparkplug eyes. Seeing Krennic again, being near him, breathing the same air as him—she felt a little nauseous at the mere thought of it. She withdrew into her mind, trying to force herself to become cold and sterile. He can’t hurt her. Where she was hiding now, he would never hurt her. She tried to repeat this to herself, and _breathe_ , but it felt like someone was piling great weights on her chest.

The gentle rap of Bodhi’s knuckles against her window made her jump.

He looked at her, concerned. _It was a bit late for that,_ she thought wryly.

“Alright?” he said.

Jyn nodded, ignoring the cloying panicky heat that was rising in her chest. Every moment had led to this one. Every moment had led here. She took one deep breath, and got out of the car.

“Bodhi!” said a voice from the front door. “And you must be Liana! Welcome to Hacienda Rosales!”

Krennic’s housekeeper, Ximena.

Jyn turned to the house and plastered a smile on her face. She was wearing a denim miniskirt, a fringed suede jacket, and purple cowboy boots. Liana, unlike Jyn, wasn’t afraid of a little color.

She greeted Ximena warmly, hoping to ingratiate herself with the woman.

“Come in out of the heat! The men are all on the patio, drinking. What can I get you two? Tequila?”

“Just a beer for me, Ximena, please,” Bodhi said politely. Ximena liked him.

“Tequila would be lovely,” Jyn said.

Ximena relayed their orders to a spotty young man loitering by the sideboard and then led them towards the back of the house. It was gorgeous, lavishly decorated, but Jyn was far too agitated to appreciate it, flitting from spot to spot like a bird being hunted. 

“Ximena?” came a small voice from the staircase.

Ximena looked up sharply.

“Go back to bed, Ramona. I’ll be there in a moment.”

Jyn didn’t see who the voice had belonged to, but it was almost certainly a child. Bodhi and she exchanged equally baffled looks, but she didn’t have the wherewithal to wonder further, too choked-up anxious with her own problems.

They were ushered to the back of the house, to the great sliding doors that led to the back porch, which overlooked a large inground swimming pool with two gurgling waterfalls. A jacuzzi adjoined, brimming with women in bikinis, tittering like birds. Beyond the fence lay the desert.

Jyn had been right about to step outside, tequila in hand, when she heard it: Krennic’s voice. She froze on the spot. That voice. That same lazy Australian drawl he’d used when he’d ordered her mother to be killed, Jyn watching wide-eyed from behind the slats of an air vent. She couldn’t do this. _She couldn’t do this_.

Bodhi’s eyes slid to hers subtly, and she knew that it was too late to go back. Taking one last deep breath, she drained her tequila. Then, she stepped outside, feeling as though walls were closing in on her. Bodhi’s gentle hand on her back kept her grounded, even as she was swimming through cross-tides of panic and loathing. The tequila was dulling things _just_ in time.

One of the men around Krennic, preternaturally eagle-eyed, observed Bodhi’s gesture with an expressionless face.

“Liana!” Krennic exclaimed, coming over to greet them, clearly in his cups. “Even more scrumptious than in the photos.”

A strange coldness entered Jyn’s veins then, like someone had slipped an ice cube up her spine, and she felt herself become utterly, utterly calm. It had happened to her that night, too, when her limbs had gone stiff from shaking so long. She wasn’t even there. None of it was real. She’d shut her eyes and made it all go away, for hours and hours.

She smiled, Liana’s bubbly grin. “Mr. Krennic,” she said smoothly. “Even more _rich_ than in the photos.”

He laughed. “Please, call me Orson,” he said, kissing her on both cheeks. Jyn suppressed the involuntary shudder that went up her spine at his nearness. “And Bodhi, my best engineer, good to see you again, mate.”

They shook hands. Jyn smiled vaguely at everyone assembled on the porch. Ten or twelve men, drinking tequila, watching her. Four were sat at a table, playing cards and smoking. One glanced timidly at Jyn. The rest seemed to be positioned around three men at the nucleus, which had included Krennic until he had moved to greet Bodhi and Jyn. One of the three was an older gentleman who looked as though he’d stepped out of a WWI lithograph. His two companions were shorter, with guns at their hips. Their silk shirts were stained with sweat. One stared at her, unseeing, and the other smiled affably when they met eyes. Eagle Eye, unassuming in one corner, flicked his eyes to hers curiously.

“ _Caballeros_ ,” Krennic announced, his accent atrocious, “This is Liana. She’s going to help us get our paperwork in order so we can resume business as usual north of the border. And, if you don’t know him, this is Bodhi, the KrenTech engineer who so kindly introduced me to Liana.”

“Gentlemen,” Jyn said, nodding.

Bodhi grinned goofily and said hello. The men gathered largely ignored him in favor of Jyn. The next few minutes passed by in a haze of introduction, cheek-kissing, and murmured Spanish.

Eagle Eye, introduced as Guillermo Ximenez, was the only one who shook her hand. He gave a brusque, accented, “Will,” as they shook, his face as placid as a pool of water. She would bet money he’d been a cop, once. He was scruffy, almost terrier-like in appearance, with his 5 o’clock shadow and his hair curling just above his collar, yet something about him screamed law enforcement anyway. Perhaps it was his severe expression: she could sense him judging her, measuring her, with those dark eyes.

“Has anyone ever told you, _Will_ , that you look like a copper?” She smirked. “So _serious_.”

His lips quirked into a knife-like smile, and Jyn thought she liked him better when he wasn’t making any facial expressions at all.

“I _was_ a cop, once. Mexican Police. They kicked me out,” he said. He paused, and referred to the man behind him. “This is John Melshi, my bodyguard.”

“Alright, Liana?” the man said in an amiable Scottish accent.

Jyn broke out into the genuine grin, the first one all day. Though she’d grown up in Yorkshire, his voice was close enough to home in this unfamiliar place that it made her ache momentarily.

“Alright.”

“What’s a good English lass like you doing here?”

“You’re a bit far from home, yourself.”

He grinned. Eagle Eye—Will—watched with what appeared to be polite disinterest, but Jyn wasn’t fooled. He was working his own agenda, just like everyone else in this pit of vipers.

***

Bodhi had come to her just after she’d gotten out of jail. She was teaching judo at Chirrut and Baze’s dojo and cursing Saw Gerrera and doing her best to stay on the straight and narrow. 

“I know your dad,” he’d said, and Jyn had to stop herself from replying that she didn’t _have_ a dad.

It had been so long since she’d even seen his face. Some days she wasn’t even sure if her memory of him was accurate: whether, perhaps, the sound of his voice in her head, with its soft Scandinavian lilt, was an invention; whether she’d lost something of the tilt of his brow over time.

The way Bodhi had said it—I _know_ him, present—had made some soppy emotion like _hope_ rise in Jyn’s chest. Maybe, she’d thought, she could see him again. It had practically brought tears to her eyes, which she’d blinked back sternly. They could do this together, then, and be free together. Maybe they could go back to their little farm in Yorkshire. Jyn would clean her act up, find a real job, and they would be together again. This chapter would close, like finally waking up from a bad fucking nightmare.

But then Bodhi had said, “He’s disappeared,” and it had all come crashing down around her ears, as usual.

They’d gone for coffee, and Bodhi had told her all about Krennic, and the Death Star, and Galen’s cryptic clues that he was resisting in some way. The Death Star, her father’s masterpiece, was a chemical weapon, _nerve gas_ , and its distribution system.

Jyn was horrified. It must have tortured her father to be making such destructive weapons. She remembered him as he was when she was a child, delighting in making baking soda volcanoes and potato batteries with her. How could—how could Krennic have bent such a joyous and powerful mind to his will? To making _weapons_?

“He particularly wanted you to know about Stardust,” Bodhi said.

“Stardust?” she’d asked, practically choking on her latte.

Bodhi had simply nodded, unaware of what that name meant to her.

Stardust, he explained, Stardust was her father’s secret project, a weapon that would outdo the Death Star. This piece of information hit her like a ton of bricks.

Bodhi pulled out a little note. It was written in the rushed hand of her father: _Tell Jyn about Stardust. Trust Fulcrum._

“Wh0 the fuck is Fulcrum?” she’d asked.

“Search me, mate.” 

After, when the coffee had gone cold, Bodhi had told her stories about her father. She’d had nothing to add to the conversation. They were like characters in a book to her now. Saw and her mother and her father, the sunny times of her early childhood and the lost years with the Separatists: she had, almost without effort, stuffed it all into a box and put it on the very highest shelf of her mind. It wasn’t her life anymore. She wasn’t that Jyn anymore: the happy child, the helpless child, the betrayed child.

And yet she remembered. She remembered the lush greenery, the unchanging grey skies, the fudgy, stodgy soil of her home, and how she had thought it would always be hers. She remembered her mother’s steady dark gaze, her father’s soft-spoken voice, the love and devotion they’d had for each other, and for her. The colors and textures of that love were imprinted on her memory, and yet—she could not feel it. She could not feel a thing.

***

Jyn had reluctantly agreed with Bodhi’s plan, if only because she supposed anything would be better than another night of falling asleep on her couch watching Match of the Day. She wasn’t really sure if Bodhi had ever expected it to go this far. If Baze and Chirrut hadn’t gotten involved, saying they’d help out, she wasn’t sure she would have stayed. They were currently on standby at a couple’s resort in Sonora, lucky bastards.

“Do you think Krennic’ll recognize me?” Jyn had asked one night.

“Doubt it,” Bodhi had answered. “The world, for him, starts and ends with Orson Krennic.”

And now, looking into the virulent blue eyes of the man himself, Jyn had to admit that Bodhi had been right. It had been hours, and there hadn’t been a glimmer of recognition.

“Liana, you’re going to be working closely with Will here, isn’t that right, Will?” Krennic said, slapping the man hard on the shoulder.

Will, looking enormously uncomfortable, nodded.

“Will is here while Chucho recovers from his heart attack. He’s in charge of getting our products across the border to distribution centers. And that’s where you come in, Liana. Because to get across the border, you need _papers_.”

“You’re a forger?” Will asked her conversationally.

Jyn nodded. “Voted Best on a Budget three years running.”

Krennic laughed uproariously. Will frowned.

“Oh, Will, humor is wasted on you,” Krennic said. “Come on, Liana, let’s play some cards. I have a feeling you’ll be my lucky charm tonight.”

He took Jyn’s hand, but didn’t seem to notice the way her face went carefully blank at his touch. When Jyn glanced up, Will was looking at her, his own face a mask. She gave him an empty sort of smile, the kind she frequently used as Liana to shrug people off.

“I’ll join you,” Will said, taking a sip of his tequila and placing his glass down on the ledge of the balcony. Jyn grimaced internally, having been hoping she could escape his watchful eyes. As he began to make his way to the card table, she noticed that he walked with a limp, favoring his left leg. It must have been a painful injury.

Krennic took one of the card player’s seats.

“ _Gracias_ ,” he said. He then looked around ostentatiously, as if trying to find a seat for her. “Guess you’ll have to sit right here, Liana,” he said, finally, patting his knee.

Jyn hesitated slightly, pulse thundering in her ears, because there was no fucking _way_ she was sitting on Krennic’s lap. What excuse, though, could she give that wouldn’t anger him? He wouldn’t like it if she embarrassed him in front of all these men by saying no.

Just when she was about to swallow the sick feeling she had and bite the bullet, one of the other card players got up, the young one who’d glanced at her shyly when she’d first walked in, and offered her his chair.

“ _Por favor, señorita_ ,” he said, giving her a tentative look.

She smiled warmly at him, and thanked him in her awful Spanish. The relief as she sat down was enormous.

“Yes,” Krennic said icily, “ _Thank you,_ Estevez.”

“ _Señor_ ,” the young man acknowledged with a nod, stepping into the background, next to Will.

“Don’t worry, Liana,” Krennic said, all Jekyll-and-Hyde, “we’ll teach you how to play.”

Jyn smiled gratefully. Thank _God_ some kind soul was willing to teach little old Liana how to play poker. Never mind that they’d had a poker night every Thursday with the Separatists and that her skills had earned her money for cigarettes in prison.

Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed Will pat the young man’s shoulder.

“We were just discussing the best way to plug a leak,” one of the other card players said airily. It was the older man, and he spoke with a posh English accent.

“A leak?” Jyn purred.

“Well, someone’s talking,” Krennic said. He looked at Jyn. “That’s the whole reason you got this job, love! Our entire US operation was compromised. Why else would we be in this shithole of a country?”

“The hash and coke that this _shithole_ provides you is the only reason you’ve got a nice big house like this, Krennic,” said the smiling man in the silk shirt. He was not smiling now. The tension in the air was palpable. Jyn’s eyes quickly scanned the assembled men, most of whom she assumed were _from_ Mexico, but the smiling man was the only who seemed brave enough to show any indignation. Will looked on, as impassive as ever, but his eyes were hard and glinting like two gemstones.

“Alright, simmer down, Rafa,” Krennic waved him off. “Only joking.”

They played a few hands, Jyn trying to ease the tension by doing her best impression of a wide-eyed young thing taking whatever advice she could. A few of the men behind her jumped in to help her, varying from condescending to genuinely helpful. Melshi, who had hit it off with Bodhi, came around to give some advice too.

At some point, Ximena called Krennic in. Jyn wondered if it had anything to do with the little voice they’d heard from the top of the stairs.

He left with his apologies, trailing his hand over Jyn’s shoulder. She tensed her back muscles, trying not to let her disgust show on her face.

Will had left the crowd around the table, and Jyn tried to watch him surreptitiously as he smoked, staring over the balcony at the desert. She played a few more rounds, and then went over to join him, wondering if he might be a good source for her in the coming weeks.

He had clearly gotten drunker since their last conversation, and he smelled of tequila and lime and sweat and tobacco. She settled down next to him, leaning over the railing.

Silently, he offered her a cigarette. She accepted, though she hadn’t smoked since getting out of prison. He handed her his lighter, and she was surprised, because most men would have simply tried to light it for her. She wasn’t sure if she should be offended or relieved.

She took a drag and asked, looking out at the desert, “Did you tell Estevez to get up?”

Will looked at her, surprised, before his mouth twitched into a little smirk.

“Not your first time playing poker, is it?” he asked, taking a drag of his own cigarette, the smoke he exhaled partially obscuring his face in the dark.

She shook her head, and then gave him a prompting look to let him know that she hadn’t missed the way he’d avoided answering her question.

“I simply wanted to stop such an embarrassing scene,” he said neutrally. “A middle-aged man, pawing after a young woman. It’s embarrassing. It’s bad for business.”

She took another puff and smiled wryly. “Well, thank you,” she said.

He raised an eyebrow. “I didn’t interrupt any seduction scheme, then?”

Jyn snorted, and stubbed her cigarette out. “ _Please_ ,” she scoffed. “I’m just trying to do my job and get paid. All this gangster bullshit is exhausting. I mean, he is _so_ delusional.”

He gave a little knowing smile. “He has to project that image, or he thinks no one will respect him,” he said. “He’s half right, but his real problem is that he believes his own bullshit. _That’s_ dangerous.”

“You’ve seen it happen before?” Jyn encouraged, wanting to keep him talking.

“This business changes people,” he said, glancing up at the desert sky thoughtfully. “Twists things until you look in the mirror one day and are unsure what you’re looking at.”

Jyn watched him a moment, the rueful curve of his mouth, the deep circles under his eyes. She hadn’t expected that from him.

Krennic returned to the party then, going directly to her and Will. 

“My two favorite people,” he drawled, and they both turned around to face him. “How was the card game?

“I think I’ll be going to sleep, now,” Will said by way of reply. “It was nice to meet you, Miss Hallik.”

“I think I may, too. Jet-lag,” she said, shrugging off Krennic’s crestfallen look. Bodhi had already turned in, having exhausted the company of Melshi, who was the only one who would deign to talk to him. The anxiety of the day was starting to creep up her spine in the form of exhaustion. She wanted away from these people, particularly Krennic.

Will went directly up to, Jyn assumed, his room, but she had to stay a bit longer to say her goodnights. She was just about done, having stopped in the kitchen to thank Ximena, when she felt a hand on her arm.

She recoiled immediately, and couldn’t help the way she curled further into herself when she turned and saw it was Krennic.

“Sorry, Liana,” he drawled, touching her shoulder.

She gritted her teeth against the near-visceral urge to pull away. She’d had quite enough of being pawed at by Krennic, of being _looked_ at by Krennic, of being in the same fucking _room_ as Krennic.

“Alright,” she said, surprised at how easy her voice sounded. “Just scared me.”

“Between me and you, right, Liana?” he said, moving closer. She could smell the sweat of him. She felt as if she might be sick. “I want your help finding the leak. Nothing too extreme. Just keep an eye peeled, yeah?”

“Sure,” she said, extricating herself as subtly as she could from his arm. “Sure, of course. If I see anything, I’ll let you know.”

“Good, good,” he said. “Good girl.”

He left her with what she was sure he imagined was a fatherly squeeze to her arm, returning to his party. Jyn slumped in relief.

The sound of the fridge opening made her snap her head up.

It was Will, getting out a pitcher of water. Where the fuck had he come from?

“Sorry,” he said, his voice even scratchier than it had been earlier. “Needed a drink.”

“Hmm,” she said, shooting him what she hoped was a convincing smile, though it was difficult to conjure up. “Have a good night, Mr. Ximenez.”

He was either her best chance at finding her father, she thought, her mood souring even further, or he was someone that she would have to be _very_ wary of.

***

“The mole must be this Fulcrum person,” Bodhi said, squirting toothpaste onto his toothbrush. They were in the Jack-and-Jill bathroom that connected their separate bedrooms. He’d waited up for her, sweeping for bugs.

Jyn, perched on the bathroom counter, nodded thoughtfully.

“Law enforcement, d’you reckon? CIA, or something?” he continued.

She thought of her initial assessment of Will. “Mexican police, maybe?” That would certainly be one explanation for his odd behavior.

Bodhi followed her train of thought, nodding as he brushed. “Bit obvious, though, no?” he said through a mouth of foam.

“S’pose,” she said thoughtfully. “Regardless of who Fulcrum is, are we sure we can really trust them?”

He frowned, confused.

“My father trusted them,” she said by way of explanation, “and look where he wound up.”

Bodhi’s eyes widened as he considered it, toothbrush hanging loosely from his mouth. Jyn grinned at how ridiculous he looked. Having spent the evening feeling as though she were behind enemy lines, it was nice to be able to relax and be herself. Liana was exhaustingly talkative and effervescent.

Bodhi spit and rinsed.

“I know tonight was hard,” he said, placing his hand over hers. “But it went perfectly. Absolutely aces, Jyn.”

“Thanks, Bodhi.” She paused. “I forgot all their names already.”

Bodhi laughed. “All you really need to know is the Pico brothers, who were the ones wearing the silk shirts. They’re Krennic’s main suppliers.”

“Do you know who Chucho is?”

“No idea,” Bodhi said. “Lowly engineer, remember? Ximena is the only one who tells me anything.”

Jyn snorts. “I think Ximena fancies you,” she said, laughing.

“She does _not_ ,” Bodhi objected, flushing hilariously.

Jyn almost died laughing at the way he flailed his hands in protest.

“ _Just a beer for me, please, Ximena_ ,” she imitated him. Bodhi slapped her arm, but couldn’t keep himself from cracking up.

“I do _not_ sound like that,” he pouted. “I hate you.”

“I wonder how she’d feel if she knew she was barking up the wrong tree,” she said. “That Scottish bloke was fit. How about the Pico brother who cracked a smile?”

“Oh, fuck off,” he laughed, making a face. He moved into the other room to continue getting ready for bed.

Jyn turned to the mirror, tired and a little drunk, coming down off the adrenaline high of pretending to be Liana, but still a little elated at how well it had gone. She observed herself a moment, the effect almost uncanny. Still watching herself in the mirror, she removed Liana’s earrings and jewelry. Then she unpinned her wig and removed the wig cap she kept her real hair tucked away in. Moaning in satisfaction, she massaged her scalp. _Much better_ , she thought, looking at the rat’s nest that resulted with affection. Next, she took out the brown-color contacts, huffing an involuntary sigh of relief as she put them away. Then, putting some makeup remover on a cotton pad, she very carefully wiped away the heavy eye makeup that Liana favored, the candy-scented, sticky lip gloss, the foundation. She checked her reflection in the mirror. _There I am_ , she thought, almost relieved. _There I am._

***

Jyn had dreams of fiery beaches and boiling oceans that night. When she woke up, she was surprised to find that her cheeks were wet with tears. The stress was getting to her, she reckoned.

Bodhi was eating chunks of blush-pink papaya on her balcony when she shuffled outside the first thing the next morning, wearing sunglasses and squinting up at the sun. It was a beautiful day out, she supposed grumpily. Bodhi smiled silently at her and poured her some violently colorful fruit juice.

“Ta, Bode,” she murmured, still half-asleep. She had the hood of her sweatshirt up to hide her brunette hair. The desert, still and staid, spread out for miles in front of them.

She wished it would rain. She missed home.

“Hate the fucking desert,” she grumbled.

“What, missing old Blighty?” Bodhi grinned. “Get some of this papaya in you, that’ll change your tune.”

She peered over at him and warily plucked a piece from his plate, popping it into her mouth. Her eyes closed at the flavor, oddly delicate and floral.

“Fuck, that’s good,” she said, picking up a fork and using it to stab another piece. She chewed silently, staring out into the grounds of the hacienda. Ahead of them: wasteland. To their left: gardens, aggressively tended. To their right: the shimmering chrome-white oasis of KrenTech Labs.

It was a low-slung building, surrounded by waxy desert foliage, spread out over an acre of land. The Death Star was somewhere inside. Her father had walked its hallways. Jyn wondered if she might find his papers there, something to give her a hint as to where he was.

“Bug spray?” Jyn said.

“No need.”

She exhaled. Bodhi had searched for cameras and microphones, and found none. They weren’t being monitored.

“I want into that lab.”

Bodhi, as a low-level KrenTech engineer, only had access to certain areas, like his work space and the dormitory he usually stayed in. Jyn wanted to see the inner workings, where her father would have done his most dangerous work. The work that was most likely to have gotten him abducted, or worse.

“I’m working on it,” Bodhi said. 

“D’you reckon Dad would’ve left anything there?”

“Maybe, but Krennic likely moved it since.”

She grunted in agreement. “We’ll need to break into Krennic’s office in the hacienda, then. I want to do it while he’s still fixed on finding the mole. I’ll set it up with Chirrut and Baze.”

“You want to shift the blame onto Fulcrum?”

Jyn shrugged, filching another piece of papaya. “It’s a golden opportunity. Why not take advantage?”

Bodhi frowned, but didn’t disagree. She got up to fix her hair and eyes.

***

“Tell me,” she said, sitting down at the kitchen table across from Will, “do I look hungover to you?”

Of all the people at the party yesterday, he seemed to be the most likely ‘in,’ despite, or perhaps because of, his odd behavior. There was something decent in him, and if she could figure out how to unlock it, he could be a wonderful asset.

A cloud of cigarette smoke around him, he was sipping a demitasse of espresso elegantly. There was a newspaper laid down next to him, folded over. Jyn caught the scent of his aftershave.

Glancing at her, as if confused why she was speaking to him, he simply said, “No.” He returned to his paper wordlessly. Clearly her usual techniques weren’t going to work with him. It was as though their little conversation yesterday had never happened.

“ _You_ don’t look hungover,” she said. Ximena proffered an identical cup of espresso to Jyn, and she thanked her.

“I’m not,” Will said, not even bothering to look up.

“Don’t mind him, _mija_ ,” Ximena said, returning to the stovetop, “he’s very moody in the morning.”

Will’s eyes slid to Ximena momentarily before he went back to his paper. He put it down, then sat back in his chair and crossed his good leg over the other. His face, in full light, freshly-shaven, looking right at her, was somehow shocking. The features that had looked so stern now seemed incongruously boyish to Jyn. She wondered momentarily if she might have seen him somewhere before, but couldn’t put her finger on it. She certainly wasn’t going to _ask_ him. If they had met, she would do well not to prompt him to remember it.

“Was there something you wanted?” he asked.

“Yeah,” she said, hiking a knee up onto her chair. “I need to know what kind of documents you need so I can get started. I’m an artist, you know, these things take time.”

“Don’t forgers just print things out?” he asked mildly.

Jyn’s eyes widened in mock offense, and she gasped theatrically. “ _Some_ do,” she said, “but _they_ get caught. I do everything by _hand_ , down to dying the fibers.” She sipped her coffee smugly, mainly because she’d seen a spark of interest in Will’s otherwise impenetrable eyes. “And that’s why I’m the best.”

“Old school,” he said.

“Exactly.”

“Well,” he replied, “I’ll be crossing the border to meet with possible distributors this week. I have my own ID, obviously, but I’ll need documents for my visa.” He paused. “Later, we’ll need all sorts of different documents: IDs, passports, permits, proofs of sale. I’ll give you an itemized list.”

“Thank you,” she said, examining the plate of pastries Ximena had placed on the table. “So, who do you think the leak is? My money’s on one of the Pico brothers.”

He made a face that she supposed, for him, indicated shock: an ever-so-slight raise of his eyebrows. “Liana,” he said, “I would not make accusations so lightly. Especially against the Pico brothers.”

She rolled her eyes and chose a croissant. Here was a man who was careful, economical, in everything: his speech, his expressions, his trust. She’d probably have to find another avenue of inquiry. _Maybe Estevez_ , she thought, though he didn’t seem to speak any English.

Will folded his paper crisply. “It doesn’t matter, anyway. It’s all in Krennic’s head.”

“Really?” she asked, eyes wide, mouth full of croissant.

“He’s paranoid,” he said, draining his coffee and getting to his feet. “Trying to deflect blame in front of the investors.”

Jyn nodded thoughtfully. “I’ll get you those papers as soon as possible.”

She took another bite of her croissant as he left, chewing as she pondered what he’d just told her. Deflecting blame in front of the investors. So, perhaps Fulcrum wasn’t their mole, because no mole existed? And the investors he spoke of had to have put their money into the Death Star. Nothing else made sense. Had her father not finished it before he disappeared, and Krennic wasn’t able to deliver what he promised? She’d need to find some way to get these answers, and Will was not looking encouraging.

***

The next day, Jyn was working a cramp out of her hand when she heard the commotion. She’d been hand-coloring holographic designs in her room all day, and she’d finally finished the last one.

It was coming from outside, a group of men, _angry_. The door to the hacienda slammed shut a few seconds later and the yelling grew louder. Someone was struggling.

“ _Suéltame!”_ they were pleading. “ _Suéltame, por favor! No hice nada!”_

Jyn didn’t understand much Spanish—she’d learned some basic phrases before coming to Hacienda Rosales—but the note of animal panic in the man’s voice didn’t need much translating. She quickly ran to the top of the stairs, where Bodhi was already standing. His eyes were wide as he stood, stock-still, watching two of Krennic’s bodyguards wrestle the struggling man towards the kitchens. Jyn recognized him, despite the blood pouring from a cut over his eye, as the shy card-player who’d given her his seat the other night.

He looked at Jyn and said, “¡ _Ayuda! ¡Ayúdeme, señorita!_ ”

“Let him go!” she shouted, starting to run down the stairs. “What the fuck are you doing? Let him _go.”_

Krennic and two more of his thugs entered through the front door. The men wrangling the card-player stopped at the landing, waiting for orders.

“Liana, stay out of this,” he said lazily. He turned to one of his men. “Diego, _get her_.”

The smaller of two, who still had about a half-foot on Jyn, blocked her path to the struggling man. Jyn looked at Krennic, trying to disguise her disgust as confusion. He ignored her.

“Krennic!” came a shout from outside. “Krennic, what the fuck are you doing!”

Will came barreling through the front door, favoring his left leg _heavily_ , trailed closely by Melshi.

“Will!” cried the card-player, renewing his fruitless struggle against his captors. “¡Will, _ayúdeme,_ Will! ¡ _No hice nada, te lo juro, te lo juro_!”

“ _Lo se,_ Estevez, _lo se,_ ” Will said, raising a comforting hand. He was breathing heavily and sweating through his dark blue button-down. “ _Tranquilo, hermaño, tranquilo_.” He turned to Krennic. “Release him, _now_.”

Jyn watched, eyes wide.

The older man smiled sharply. “You’re forgetting yourself, Will.”

“He hasn’t _done_ anything!”

“Then why the _fuck_ were the Pico brothers arrested!” Krennic raged suddenly, eyes sparking terribly. “Your mate here was _conveniently_ in the wrong place when he was supposed to be the lookout!”

Will swallowed, eyes dark.

“That doesn’t mean—!” he began, but he was interrupted by Krennic.

“That’s enough, Will,” he said dangerously. “I don’t want to have to lose two of my men today.” Will’s eyes were burning, jaw clenched. Krennic turned to his thugs. “Take the boy to the cellar. I’ll be having a little chat with him.”

“No!” Will cried, springing forward again. He followed Krennic, limping painfully, as he walked towards the back porch. “ _Carajo_ , please, he’s just a kid.”

Estevez, the card-player, was dragged away.

At some point, Bodhi had followed Jyn down the stairs. Only he, Jyn, and Melshi remained in the landing. Jyn didn’t know what to do. They couldn’t risk alienating Krennic by going against him.

She turned to the bodyguard desperately. “What the fuck’s going on?”

“We were meeting some possible new distributors, and Estevez was the lookout on the western approach. For some reason, he was entirely out of position and the police were able to take us by surprise,” he explained. “The Pico brothers were arrested, which likely means that Krennic will have to find new suppliers.”

“He thinks that Estevez is the mole, then?”

Melshi nodded, looking concerned.

“But you and Will don’t?”

“No, no, no way,” he said, shaking his head. “Estevez is a wee kid. He’s one of ours—Chucho’s, I mean. He would never betray us.”

“What will happen to him?” Bodhi asked quietly.

Melshi, eyes huge, simply stared. After a moment, he simply shook his head and followed after Will and Krennic.

“What do we do?” Bodhi asked.

Jyn sighed. “I don’t think there’s anything we _can_ do.”

She heard voices on the porch and crept closer, hoping to hear the conversation. She found a side window she could watch Krennic and Will through.

“What do you suggest I do, then, Will?” Krennic asked lazily. “Let him continue? Let him go, so the men feel safe taking a peso or two here and there? This needs to be punished, and needs to be seen to be punished.”

“All I’m saying is,” Will said placidly, “torture is ineffective, and requires a lot of clean-up.”

His eyes seemed blank as slate to Jyn. She backed away from the window slowly, feeling as if she might be sick. Her hands were shaking, and she pressed them together to make them stop. She’d seen violence before—she’d been part of a paramilitary group since she was seven, she’d been in prison—but never violence with such sangfroid. Never violence like this.

The two men came back inside.

“Take care of it, Will,” Krennic said.

Will nodded tightly, and headed for the cellar.

Jyn followed numbly, feeling as though she were under a spell. She needed to see—she needed to know what would happen to Estevez.

Down in the cellar, he was strung up by his wrists in a little room off to one side. The wine bottles and barrels of tequila lay undisturbed in the main area. Jyn watched, silent in one corner, through the doorframe. She didn’t know why, but she couldn’t look away.

Will had his hand on the back of Estevez’s neck, like a father to a son, and he was speaking quietly in Spanish to him. Tears were trailing down the younger man’s face, but he was nodding anyway.

Will stepped back, and reached for the gun he’d tucked into his belt.

“ _Gracias,_ Will _, gracias_ ,” Estevez was saying, eyes closed, beatific in the low light of the dingy little room.

The door slammed shut as Will raised the gun.

Jyn heard the shot, and ran.

***

She retreated to her room, and spent the rest of the day listening to Bodhi trying to convince her that they should stay. She’d packed and unpacked her suitcase at least three times.

“They _killed_ him. Killed him,” Jyn said shakily, sitting on the bed.

“Jyn, please,” Bodhi said, getting to his knees in front of her and grasping her hands. “Your dad needs us. He’s depending on us.”

“Is he, Bodhi? Is he really?” Jyn asked. “Have you ever considered that he may not want to be found?”

“What?” Bodhi replied. “He wouldn’t do that! He wouldn’t just abandon—” He stopped that thought short, and looked at Jyn with wide eyes.

She smiled ruefully. “It’s okay, Bodhi,” she said, looking down at her hands.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t—”

“It’s _okay_ ,” she reassured him, though there was still something brittle in her voice. She twisted her hands in her lap. “I haven’t seen him in _twenty years_ , Bodhi. I know he was your best mate, but I’m not dying for someone I hardly know.”

“How can you say that?” he asked, stunned. “He’s your father.”

Jyn forced her voice to be gentle when she said, “All I’m saying is, Bodhi, we’re in over our heads, here. And our only ally—who, by the way, may not have even _been_ an ally—was probably just killed.”

Bodhi sighed. “Look, I can’t make you stay,” he said, “but I’ll keep on trying to find him, with or without you.”

“Can’t you see that’s _dangerous_?” she cried. He shrugged, uncaring. She threw up her hands, and said, “Well, fuck, Bodhi, I can’t just _abandon_ you.”

He smiled sheepishly.

Jyn groaned. “ _Fine_ ,” she said. “But we’re moving up the break-in. I want out of this fucking place as soon as.”

Suddenly, she heard footsteps on the stairs and placed a finger to her lips. There was a knock on the door.

“Miss Hallik, Mr. Krennic would like to see you on the patio.” It was Ximena.

“Right. Be right there, thank you,” Jyn said, looking at Bodhi with wide eyes.

Bodhi waited a minute before saying, quietly, “What do you think he wants?”

“Assure me that I won’t meet a similar fate?” she said glibly. Sometimes she was so good at bullshitting she frightened herself.

“That is not funny,” Bodhi replied darkly.

“Hey, you’re the one who wants to keep going with this.”

“It’s not a matter of _want_ —”

Jyn silenced him with a hand, not wanting to get into it again.

 _I almost miss prison_ , she thought with a sigh, walking down to the patio. The days there had gone by smoothly, so smoothly she had barely noticed them slip past. Jyn had early on discovered that the path of least resistance was her best choice, and it had continued to serve her well in prison. There was just the schedule, time moving as easy and slow as molasses. She had been able to insulate herself from the outside world, at first from necessity, and then from preference.

Her life post-incarceration hadn’t been all that different, besides the bills she now had to pay. She got up, worked, ate, worked, and went back to sleep. She didn’t have to think about her father, and she didn’t have to be constantly looking over her shoulder, and she didn’t have to make choices about what would come next. All she’d had to do was keep her head down and keep her feet moving.

She arrived at the patio to find it empty, save for Will. He was smoking and leaning over the railing, his back to her. She considered going back inside, not overly keen on being alone with him, but ultimately decided it would look odd to the servants if she did.

He must have heard her, because he turned around. His eyes met hers, and she had no idea what he was thinking. He nodded at her tightly. There was a small smear of blood on his shirt-collar.

“Tough day?” she asked without inflection, trying not to show how little she wanted to be near him. _You killed him_ , she wanted to say. _You looked him in the eyes and killed him_.

His face made some complicated expression, then, and he turned back around. Jyn went to stand beside him. He seemed vulnerable at the moment, something she didn’t think would happen again soon, and she wanted to take advantage of it. 

“Can I bum one?” she asked.

Silently, he fished a box of cigarettes and a lighter out of his pocket and placed them on the railing. He didn’t look at her.

“Ta,” she said, extracting one and lighting it, doing her utmost to keep her hands from shaking. The first drag helped. Will continued to look out over the balcony, gazing out at the desert blankly.

“Was he the leak, d’you reckon?”

“Yes,” he said simply.

“But when you first came in—”

“I was wrong.” He refused to look at her.

Jyn watched him silently.

“You’re waiting for Krennic?” he asked.

She exhaled a cloud of smoke and nodded.

“He’ll try to convince you that nothing like that would ever happen to you,” Will said, still staring blanky into the desert. “Don’t believe him.”

Jyn, startled at the even honesty of his statement, could only stare at the man. He took a long drag, blew the smoke out with a rueful expression, and crushed the butt under his heel. When he was done, his face had returned to its usual cold reserve.

Krennic arrived a moment later. He brought them in as if for a huddle. “Glad we have that nasty business behind us.” He paused. “Unfortunately, I am now down a supplier as well as a distributor.”

“The deal fell through?” Will asked.

Krennic nodded. “But no matter. The leak is gone, and we can get to what’s important now. I’ll focus on finding a supplier. I want you two to work together to find a new distributor north of the border. Any questions?”

Jyn blinked. Will’s face remained completely blank.

“Good,” Krennic said, clapping them both on the shoulder. “See you at dinner.”

Will left without a word, leaving Jyn to finish her cigarette and wonder at the man’s behavior. Who was he, exactly, this strange, quiet man? This killer. For a brief time, she’d toyed with the idea that he might be Fulcrum, the man her father told her she could trust. But now, though she wasn’t discounting the idea that Fulcrum could still be alive, she couldn’t square the two things. _Estevez is a wee kid_ , Melshi had said, and Will had killed him. He’d done it, Jyn reckoned, in part to prevent Estevez from being tortured, but the point remained: he’d looked his colleague, his friend, in the eye, and he’d _shot_ him. Jyn remembered the wild look in Estevez’s eyes, like he was a cow being led to the slaughter, as he struggled against his captors.

And yet, when he’d died, his expression had been soft, and resigned. He had been _thanking_ Will, even as he’d raised the gun. There was something at play here that she didn’t fully understand yet. She felt like she was walking through a fun house. Everywhere she turned, images wavered and mutated in trick mirrors, illusions flickered in the heat and sun of the desert. She couldn’t recognize who was friend and who was foe.

***

Jyn let Chirrut and Baze into the hacienda later that night. Bodhi had performed some sort of trickery with the cameras and security system, and he swore up and down to Jyn that there would be no way that Krennic would catch her. She tried not to think too much.

“Little sister!” Chirrut stage-whispered, grinning from ear to ear. Baze stood beside him silently with a long-suffering expression on his face.

Jyn put her finger to her lips, smiling all the time, and motioned for them to follow her. They did, silent as shadows, all the way to Krennic’s office. Once the adrenaline of it all kicked in, she wasn’t even nervous anymore. Her hands were steady as entered the code she’d seen a maid punch in earlier.

“You two are all loved-up, I can see by your faces,” she whispered once they were inside. “You sure you’re up to it?”

Chirrut chuckled dismissively. They were mainly here for insurance, just in case anyone caught them in the act. Once they’d searched the office thoroughly and Jyn was safely back in bed, they’d kick off and pretend they were burglars.

Baze and Jyn began to search the office, while Chirrut, ironically, kept watch by the door. He’d hear, or sense, or whatever the fuck he did, much earlier than his two partners.

“We’re looking for any mention of my father, or the Death Star, or Stardust,” Jyn said. The word felt odd in her mouth.

She began with Krennic’s desk, busting open locks with practiced ease. Baze, on the other hand, began with the file cabinets. They searched for several minutes, but there was nothing useful.

Disappointed with the lack of any valuable information, she sighed and looked around. Noticing a safe behind the desk, she cocked her head and approached it.

Chirrut said, quietly, “Someone’s coming.”

She and Baze locked eyes.

“Quick, punch me, punch me,” Jyn said in a rush, making gimme motions.

“Little sister—” he protested.

“Either you punch me, or Krennic kills me,” she hissed. She looked at Baze expectantly, and he, clearly reluctant, gave in with an exasperated expression.

“Ready?” he said quietly.

Jyn nodded. “Who are you?” she yelled loudly, grinning a bit. Chirrut was, too. “What are you—oof!”

She sprawled to the ground, holding her jaw. He’d punched her only lightly, but it was easy to go with the momentum and fall.

“Oh my—” Baze said, eyes wide, hands extended.

“I’m fine, get _out_ ,” Jyn hissed. She surreptitiously re-adjusted her wig right as the beam of a torch blazed into the office.

“ _¿Qué—?_ ” Whoever spoke was immediately cut off by Chirrut and Baze, who bum-rushed them before they could finish their thought. Jyn held up a hand to her face, trying to see around the bright light. She had no idea who it was.

The two men clambered noisily away, and whoever came in spoke again, but this time it was a cry for help: “ _¡Ayuda! ¡Intrusos!_ ”

They came closer to where Jyn was starting to sit up on the floor.

“Are you okay?” It was Will, she realized, in a t-shirt and jeans, torch in one hand.

Shadows played strangely over his face for a moment and he stepped closer. Jyn, unable to see much of anything, struggled to a kneeling position. Will shone the flashlight right in her eyes and she cried out. Suddenly, he was hauling her up and against him, arm wrapped around her throat. He was surprisingly strong for such a slight man.

She tried to shout, but couldn’t find the breath. Though the punch had been relatively gentle, her jaw was still throbbing sharply. Will jerked her back against him again, and she could feel the heat of his breath like an oil spill across her neck.

“Who the fuck are you?” he said, voice like gravel.

She clawed at his arm, and shuffled around, hoping to find one of his feet to stamp on, maybe even to get his bad leg, but his grip was relentless and he kept hauling her around.

When she opened her mouth to speak, he shoved her onto the boringly masculine black leather couch and pulled a gun from his belt.

“Who _are_ you?” he demanded, taking care, Jyn noticed, to keep his voice low.

“What do you—Liana, I’m Liana,” she stuttered out. It was easy to act scared when you fucking _were_ scared. He was looking at her with the strangest expression, like he’d seen a ghost.

“Don’t fucking lie to me,” Will said, gritting his teeth, “I know you’re wearing color contacts.”

“I—I don’t—is it a crime to want to change my eye color?”

“ _No me chingues_ , Liana, it’s the middle of the fucking night,” he said, staring her down with eyes that looked like two fathomless black holes.

She simply stared back, wide-eyed and alone. In that moment, her expression was all Jyn: feral animal backed into a corner.

The sudden sound of a stampede of hurried footsteps drew Jyn’s eyes past where Will stood, towards the door. They were coming, and they would find Will pointing a gun at her. Her head jerked involuntarily.

Will’s eyes tracked her movements. He swallowed, and lowered the gun.

“Never mind. It doesn’t matter who you are. You have two days to get the fuck out of Mexico, or I _will_ kill you,” he said lowly.

“Okay. Okay, thank you,” Jyn said shakily, playing at being Liana once more.

“Don’t,” Will replied sharply, shoving his gun back into his trousers and crouching down in front of her. He touched at her jaw lightly, right where she could feel the bruise forming, and she flinched violently. His hand lowered, chastened, and his eyes wouldn’t meet hers. “Krennic doesn’t need to know about this,” he murmured.

“No,” she agreed, standing up abruptly, eager to get away from him. Her heart was pounding in her ears. “No, he doesn’t.”

“Go back to your room. You were there all night,” Will said placidly.

She nodded numbly, and left, mind racing.

Bodhi was awake, pacing frantically, when she returned. By then, the house was a swarm of activity: men with guns were running and shouting all throughout. They didn’t know that Chirrut and Baze were long gone by now.

Jyn’s heart was still pounding as she sat on the edge of Bodhi’s bed, curled in on herself. She was trying to breathe deeply.

“What happened?” Bodhi was saying. “Are you okay?”

She shook her head frantically. “He knows, Bodhi,” she gritted out. “Will knows.”

His eyes widened. “ _What_?”

“He saw that I was wearing contacts—must have been the flashlight—” she said rapidly.

Bodhi sat down next to her and put his arm around her. “Fucking Christ,” he said. “What did he do?”

“I have two days to get out of Mexico,” she said. She turned her head to look at Bodhi, suddenly realizing something. “I don’t know if he knows you’re involved. What if—”

Bodhi blinked.

She stood up suddenly, shrugging him arm off. “We have to get out of here,” she said. She dragged his suitcase out of the closet and tossed it on the bed. “We have to get out of here _now_.”

“Jyn, listen to me, there’s something I have to tell you.” When Jyn simply ignored him and continued to methodically pack, he grabbed her by the shoulders and turned her to face him. “ _Listen_ —Fulcrum’s alive.”

That stopped her in her tracks.

“What?” she asked. “How do you—”

“I was scanning the frequencies for chatter, to make sure no one had spotted Chirrut and Baze, and I heard—I heard ‘Copy that, Fulcrum. Go check it out,’” Bodhi said, smiling. “That means they’re alive!”

Jyn blinked, unsure where this left them. Did this really change anything? They still had no idea who Fulcrum was, let alone whether or not they could trust them. Bodhi seemed to take anything her father said as holy writ, and therefore believed unquestioningly that Fulcrum was trustworthy, but Jyn wasn’t so sure. She’d been in this business for too long to trust anything so blindly.

“Bodhi,” she said finally. “This has gone too far. Fulcrum can’t help us, now, even if they wanted to. I don’t want my body to be found in a ditch somewhere.”

“Jyn, your dad—”

“Is probably dead,” she finished flatly. She felt briefly guilty at the way Bodhi’s face dropped miserably, but pressed on. “If Fulcrum is so fucking great, why weren’t they able to help him?”

“We have to—we have to at least _try_.”

“No,” Jyn said. “No, we don’t. This isn’t worth dying for, Bodhi.”

“Two days, Jyn,” Bodhi replied. “Two days is all I’m asking. Let’s try to find Fulcrum, and if we don’t succeed by Will’s deadline, I’ll leave with you. No questions asked, I swear.”

She put down the shirt that she’d been folding and sighed. Bodhi was not going to give this up.

“Fine,” she said, begrudgingly. “Two days.”

Bodhi smiled, and Jyn glared.

“So, how do you propose we find Fulcrum?” she asked, exasperated.

“No fucking idea.”

Jyn sighed, trying to think. “Well—how did my father know who Fulcrum was?”

“By chance? That’s the only reason I heard their name mentioned over the radio.”

“Yeah, but you were scanning frequencies. My father probably wouldn’t have been doing that.”

“Someone acting suspicious?” Bodhi tried.

“Maybe that’s how it started. But how did he know the code name? He’d need some kind of— _source_ ,” she said, eyes widening as she realized exactly who might have told her father who Fulcrum was. “ _Saw_.”

“Saw, as in, your foster dad? Saw, the eco- _terrorist_?”

Saw terrified Bodhi, and Jyn had to say, she found it a little hilarious.

She nodded. “He hacked the CIA database a few years ago when he thought there was a UC in our ranks. Fuck. _Fuck_.”

“So, Fulcrum is CIA?” Bodhi asked.

Jyn shrugged. “It’s definitely possible.”

“Let’s ask Saw,” Bodhi said, brightening at the thought.

“No!” Jyn snapped. She’d rather walk over hot coals than ask _Saw_ for help. “That fucker left me to rot in prison.”

“Oh, come _on_ , Jyn,” Bodhi groaned.

Jyn sighed heavily, and looked down at her feet. She hadn’t had much occasion to think of Saw during her time in prison, or, at least, she hadn’t thought much about him besides how he had betrayed her. She had no desire to see him, to even _think_ about him, ever again. But she couldn’t see any other way forward that didn’t involve her getting a bullet between the eyes, courtesy of Will.

“Fine,” she said quietly. “Fine. I’ll get into contact tomorrow.”

Bodhi watched her go, eyes wide, not understanding. Jyn felt the memories coming at her like a tidal wave. She hadn’t thought of Saw in _years_. She hadn’t thought of his mocking laughter from those early days, of the icy silence he’d freeze her out with when she failed, of all the meals she missed as punishment. She hadn’t even thought of the good times, when she’d been useful, when she’d done well, and Saw would be all smiles and ice cream. All she seemed able to recall, like it was yesterday, was the heartbreak and panic she’d felt when she realized he and the crew had left her. It hadn’t even been a mind game that time. That much became clear when the police arrived on the scene and slapped her in handcuffs. Something in her had frozen solid in that moment, a long process finally coming to its inevitable conclusion. It hurt to think about Saw, so she had stopped. It hurt to feel something for him, so she had stopped. And that’s all there was to it.

***

It had been more than two days.

“Why hasn’t he killed me yet?” Jyn mused aloud to Bodhi one morning.

“You sound disappointed.”

She frowned. “I don’t get it,” she said. “I don’t like that.”

“I wish Saw would hurry up.”

They had successfully contacted Saw nearly an entire day after the break-in, through Baze’s vast network of arms-related contacts. Jyn was no longer in the circle of people who knew how to get in touch with Saw Gerrera.

“Jyn!” he’d smiled over the encrypted video chat.

“Saw,” she’d said coldly. She was tired of this operation making her drudge up every painful memory from her past.

“My darling, how are you? I haven’t heard from you in years.” His eyes were oddly soft as he said it, but Jyn wasn’t interested.

“Well, I _was_ in jail, as you know.”

“Oh, Jyn, don’t say—”

“I’ll say what I please to you,” she’d said, with the brittle, rusty edge of pain long hidden.

“Okay, okay,” he’d said placatingly, eyes dimming a little. “What can I do for you, then?”

“My father asked you about someone called Fulcrum? Who are they?”

“Fulcrum?” Saw had said, casting his mind back. “CIA, I believe. I can dig up the file and send it to you.”

“Do that.”

“Jyn, just let me—let me explain—”

“No need to explain,” she’d said coolly. “I understand perfectly.”

That had been a day ago.

In the intervening time since the break-in, Jyn had been forced to work with Will on finding new distributors. It had been—difficult. For the most part, he simply ignored her existence, occasionally breaking the silence to assign her a task or ask her a question. When she’d first walked into the room that he used as an office, he’d simply stared at her uncomprehendingly for a moment, as if to say, _I’d never imagined you were this stupid._

At the end of the first day, he’d pulled her aside and said, “I don’t know what you think you’re doing, but stop. Go home.”

The second day he’d spent alternately ignoring and glaring at her, usually through a thick fog of cigarette smoke.

The third day, she looked over at him and said, “What’s your deal?”

He glanced up from his desk. “I don’t understand.”

“It’s been two days.”

He looked at her as if she had lost her mind. “Are you asking me why I haven’t killed you yet?”

“Yeah,” she said, “Yeah, I guess I am.”

“Krennic needs to think it was an accident,” he replied mildly, turning back to his work, “so I’m waiting for the right moment.”

Jyn looked at him in mock horror, but she wasn’t totally certain he was joking. Was Will even the type of person who knew how to make a joke? In any case, something in her stomach sank like a rock at his words.

Later that night, Saw finally sent them Fulcrum’s file.

Bodhi peered at the document on his screen, and Jyn read over his shoulder.

“CIA. Someone called…Cassian Andor,” he said. He clicked to the next item in the file, which was a photo. As it came up on screen, his jaw dropped. “Oh my god.”

“Fuck’s sake,” Jyn said. “Un-fucking-believable.”

It was _Will_. Much younger, clean-shaven, without a cloud of cigarette smoke around him, but still: Will was Fulcrum. Will was CIA.

“ _Will_?” Bodhi said, in disbelief. “But he killed someone!”

Jyn blinked, utterly lost. “What the fuck…”

She’d placed him as law enforcement of some description from the off, so she wasn’t sure why she was so surprised. He had a kind of sour self-righteousness about him, a marbling of strait-laced, if hypocritical, Puritan. It was unbelievable, and it was the only thing that made any sense.

The next day, at a meeting with Krennic, Will—no, Jyn corrected, _Cassian_ —was sitting opposite her, smoking in his usual enigmatic fashion and drinking coffee. She was staring at him, and trying not to, unable to square the man in front of her with the young, fresh agent she’d seen in his photo. He was a killer, and he was the closest thing to legitimate in the whole fucking place. Her father, she mused, watching Will carefully, had wanted her to trust this man. She nearly scoffed out loud. He was the least trustworthy of all. 

“ _Gracias_ ,” he said, to a maid who refilled his cup. He turned to Jyn and Krennic. “I’ve secured a meeting with a possible distributor. In Sonora,” Will said. “They run El Paradiso nightclub in Calexico.”

“Don’t they run all of Calexico? Estrada’s boys?” Krennic said, intrigued.

“Yes,” Will said. “I’d like Liana to come with me.”

His eyes landed on her expectantly, two near-physical weights.

“Me?” Jyn said, slowly, her heart going at a breakneck gallop. “But why would I go? I’ll get the documents in order, here.”

“Men like Estrada loosen up around women. They’ll be too busy showing off to check the details of the agreement.”

Krennic watched the exchange with interest, and grinned slowly. “Will, you absolute dog,” he drawled. “I was beginning to wonder if you had it in you, mate!”

Jyn kept her face carefully blank, unsure how she wanted to play this.

“Sorry?” Will blinked.

Krennic laughed heartily. “Oh, mate,” he said. “Liana, go with Will. Don’t worry, Melshi will be there to protect your honor.”

He got up and left, still laughing.

Jyn stared at Will. “What the fuck are you doing?” she said.

“We leave in three hours,” he said mildly. “Pack an overnight bag.”

He lit a cigarette and got up to leave.

Jyn packed quickly, and spent the remaining two hours and forty-five minutes trying to think of some way out of it.

“He can’t kill you,” Bodhi said sympathetically, though there was an edge of anxiety in his eyes. He was trying to be brave for her. “First of all, Krennic loves you. Second of all, if he wanted to, he’d have done it already.”

Jyn rolled her eyes. “ _Thanks,_ Bodhi. Comforting.”

“He’s CIA. He can’t kill people with impunity,” he replied anxiously. “Right?”

She shrugged, and shoved a pistol into her clutch.

Two cars were waiting at the end of the driveway. Will and Melshi stood beside either one. Jyn nearly cried with relief, and walked towards Melshi’s.

He grabbed her bag with an apologetic smile.

“No—” she said, before Will grabbed her arm and hauled her into the passenger seat of his car.

“You come with me,” he said. The door slammed shut and the locks clicked ominously. Jyn was immediately claustrophobic, pulse pounding loudly in her ears as she waited for Will to walk around the car and get in.

He began to drive.

“Listen, I—”

“Shut _up_ ,” he interrupted her, already exasperated.

Jyn shut up, eyes wide, and watched him. He drove aggressively, and soon enough, they were on the desert highway that led to Hacienda Rosales. She peered into the rearview and saw Melshi following behind them.

Nearly fifteen minutes passed in suffocating silence. Jyn had just about bit her nails bloody when they stopped abruptly on a deserted highway. The only thing for miles was a sad-looking cactus, and cracked red earth. Jyn fucking hated this place.

“Oh Jesus Christ,” she said anxiously as Will exited the car angrily and came over to her side. He motioned jerkily for her to get out.

When she had done so, he fixed her with an enraged stare and put his hands on his hips.

“What the fuck?” he cried. “Was I not clear?”

Jyn felt nearly dizzy with relief. He wasn’t going to shoot her and leave her body for the vultures. “You dragged me all the way out here for _this_? I thought you were going to _kill me_!” Jyn exclaimed.

“I should!” he huffed. “What do you want with Krennic? _Who are you?”_

“I could ask you the same fucking thing, _Fulcrum_ ,” she said, crossing her arms.

His eyes riveted to hers. “Where the fuck did you hear that?” he asked lowly, stock-still. She nearly smiled at his expression. It was that of man who had only just realized how utterly fucked he was.

“I think it’s my turn to ask questions, don’t you?”

He looked a bit green. He licked his lips nervously. “Go ahead.”

“Your name is Cassian Andor. You work for the CIA. Yeah?”

Any remaining color drained from his face. He was almost shaking, eyes all whites, as he managed to say, “Where did you—How did you—?”

“That’s not an answer.”

He blinked once, and then nodded jerkily. He asked, voice like lead, “What do you want?”

“Stop fucking threatening me, for a start,” she said. “And let me do what I came here to do.”

He looked at her sharply. “Which is?”

“Find my father.”

She was surprised when this, of all things, made comprehension dawn on Will’s—Cassian’s—face.

“I _knew_ I’d seen you before,” he said, looking at her queerly. “You’re Galen’s daughter, aren’t you?”

“Jyn,” she corrected nonsensically, her mind racing. How the fuck had he known that? Why the fuck had she told him her real name?

“Well, listen, _Jyn_ , you don’t seem to understand,” he said, stepping closer to her. The man had _no_ concept of personal space. “I can’t let you derail months of work and millions of dollars in operational funds so you can see your precious father again.”

“I don’t recall asking your permission,” Jyn said, brow mock-confused.

“I’ll tell Krennic who you are,” he threatened.

“Oh, come _on_ ,” Jyn replied airily. “Do I even need to say it? I’ll tell Krennic who _you_ are.”

“This is not a fun little game for you to play at,” he said, teeth clenched. “People have died. _You_ could die.”

“Your concern is touching.”

He raised a gun. “ _I’ll_ kill you, then,” he said, though she could sense he was mostly bluffing, trying to scare her off. He had no idea who he was dealing with.

She whipped her own pistol out. “Go ahead.”

They stared at each other a moment. His grip faltered, and she pressed her advantage, letting a deliciously slow smile spread across her face

“So _you’re_ the mole,” she said leisurely, delighted. “Was it you who set Estevez up? Shot him to clean up your mess?”

“None of your business,” he bit out. His grip on the gun tightened. He hesitated. “They—they were supposed to arrest him, too.” He dropped his arm. “He would have exposed me.”

Jyn lowered her gun too, watching him carefully. She had him just where she wanted him. Him and his big CIA budget—that could certainly be useful. She could definitely use an ally within the organization.

“Why don’t we work together?” she asked. “I could use your help.”

Cassian put his gun into his belt, eyeing her warily. “I barely know you. Why should I trust you?” he said.

If Jyn were to be asked, she would not be able to explain why she did what she did next. Was it the cagey, wounded way he looked at her under the hot desert sun? How his hand shook minutely as it held the gun up? Or was it how desperate she was to find her way through this maze of dealers and traffickers and double-agents? So desperate that she clung to the nearest person, friend or foe, like a life raft? She didn’t know.

She dropped her gun entirely. He watched with an unreadable expression as she removed her contacts and her wig, shaking her hair out.

“Jyn Erso,” she said, sticking out a hand.

He blinked. It took him a moment, but he eventually, hesitantly, put his own hand in hers. It was warm, sweaty from the gun, but not entirely unpleasant.

“Cassian Andor.” 

***

Cassian had informed her, in a strangely toneless voice, that they would be spending the night in a hotel on their way to San Luis, where the meeting would take place.

“You’ll have your own room,” he’d said, his eyes straight ahead on the road. “Me and Melshi will share the other.”

Jyn had snorted. “If you think I’m worried about all that shite Krennic was talking about, let me put your mind at ease. I somehow doubt you’re trying to get your leg over.”

His eyes had darted to hers, confused.

“I don’t think you’re trying to fuck me,” she’d clarified.

“Ah,” he’d said noncommittally. He’d paused, and Jyn could practically see him taking the time to pick his way around that. “I have people checking on your story,” he’d said. “If you’ve lied to me, I’ll leave you in Calexico. And if I see you again after that, I really _will_ kill you.” His lips had quirked into sharp little smile. “Is that clear?”

“As _crystal_ ,” she’d replied charmingly, putting her feet up on the dash.

They’d arrived at the hotel two hours later. Cassian had been talking lowly on the phone for most of the drive, clipped little sentences in both Spanish and English. Jyn hadn’t really been able to make heads nor tails of what she could hear.

In the parking lot, he’d turned to her and said, “Come meet my team,” which Jyn had taken to mean she’d passed the test.

Now, she was sitting on the edge of the bed in a shitty little motel room, talking to Melshi while Cassian and his cunt of a partner, Esso, were arguing on the balcony.

When she’d met him, he’d looked her up and down and said, “You _cannot_ be serious.” He tall and dark-skinned and built like a beanpole.

“This is _highly_ irregular,” he currently was saying to Cassian.

The shorter man blew out a cloud of smoke. “Mothma thinks it’s too good an opportunity to pass up,” he said mildly. “Krennic loves her.”

“Krennic _loves_ her?” Esso said, all camp outrage. “And that suggests to her that you ought to _trust_ this mongrel?”

“ _Chingada madre_ , Kay, she’s right inside,” Cassian replied, turning to check if she’d heard.

“I see your time at Hacienda Rosales has not improved your vocabulary,” Esso sniffed.

Cassian leaned in. “Orders are orders,” he said. He sighed. “She _has_ managed to place herself closer to Krennic and the weapon in one week than I’ve been able to in months.”

He stubbed his cigarette out on the banister and returned inside.

“Jyn, let’s talk,” he said.

It was odd seeing him as Cassian, instead of Will. Something about him seemed different: rougher around the edges, but softer, too, somehow. He still chain-smoked incessantly, but as Cassian it was with a desperate dependence instead of Will’s detached sangfroid. And of course there was the perpetual air of world-weariness that was the sole provenance of those engaged in public service. He seemed more an overworked desk jockey than a suave CIA agent in the dim light of the hotel room.

Melshi and Esso left without comment, and Cassian sat down the edge of the desk in the corner. Her knees were practically touching his own.

“Are you aware,” he asked, “of what your father had been working on when he was arrested?”

She was, but she wasn’t yet sure how much she wanted to reveal to Cassian. She shrugged uncaringly, and could see his jaw clench in reply. 

“Chemical weapons,” he said, finally, eyes dark and blank as slate.

Jyn affected surprise, mind working overtime. 

“His masterpiece is something called the Death Star. It’s a nerve gas in a distribution system that can douse ten square miles in a matter of minutes. At the time your father disappeared the Death Star was a few weeks off fully functional. Thankfully, without him, production has halted.”

This raised the possibility that her father had disappeared of his own accord. Jyn lowered her eyes, thinking. When she didn’t respond, Cassian’s face shifted.

“Those delays make you wonder if such powerful weapons could ever have been developed at all if your father had simply refused,” he said with a sort of smug, self-righteous cruelty.

Jyn’s eyes flicked to his. “He had no choice,” she said lowly. Krennic had threatened his family, and, indeed, had made good on that threat in the case of her mother. What was he supposed to have done? Allow his family to die?

“Of course your precious father is the only one who ever had to make an impossible decision,” he replied coolly.

She scowled. “What do you want, exactly?” she snapped. She was running low on patience.

“Help us find the formula for the nerve gas, and we’ll help you find your father,” he said, eyes alight as he looked at her with a watchful expression.

She snorted. “And why should I help you? You’ve done nothing but harass and intimidate me.”

“Krennic’s made promises to his investors and buyers. If we can spoil this deal, he’ll be ruined, sent to jail, disgraced.”

“Hmm. Okay. How about this?” she said tartly. “You help me find my father, _then_ I’ll help you find the formula.”

Cassian’s look hardened, and he slammed a fist down on the desk. “I’m giving you the chance to take down the man who tore apart your family, who probably killed your mother—” and, fuck, he _knew_ , “—who has destroyed countless lives, and that’s all you can say?” he asked, jaw set tightly.

“That’s all I can say,” Jyn confirmed, with a smug impudence she didn’t feel.

“Can you be so apathetic?” he asked, a sort of sour wonder in his voice.

 _How else do you think I’ve survived?_ she thought. She merely glared up at him.

“Fine,” Cassian said, clearly agitated. “Fine. I’ll just tell Krennic who you really are. Let him deal with you.”

Jyn rolled her eyes. “We’ve been through this before,” she said, “ _You_ say, I’ll tell Krennic who you are, then _I_ say, no, I’ll tell Krennic who _you_ are, then _you_ glare—”

“Enough!” Cassian all but snarled. He ducked, to get in Jyn’s face, and Jyn could tell she had pushed things too far this time. “I show him your mugshot, and who do you think he’ll believe? I’ve been undercover for _months_ now, and you’ve been here, what, a week?”

Jyn shot up out of her seat, so close to Cassian she could smell his aftershave.

“I don’t have to listen to this!”

“Yes,” he replied, impassive as a stone, “you do.”

They stared at each other a moment, faces only inches away, both breathing heavily in their anger. Jyn felt her rage like a live thing, like hot coals burning in her chest.

Agent Esso walked in at that moment, stopped, took in the scene before him, and drawled, “Oh good. No one’s dead. When the shouting stopped, I was afraid one of you had killed the other.”

Jyn sat back down, and Cassian slouched back onto the desk surreptitiously, rubbing a palm over his stubble.

“Three guesses which one of you I hoped was dead.”

“What is it, Kay?” Cassian snapped.

“We’ve already got a lead on Galen Erso,” the taller man said.

“What?” Jyn said, snapping to attention.

He passed an iPad to her, somehow loading the gesture with contempt.

“Last seen being forced into a van at gunpoint on the outskirts of Sinaloa.”

Jyn watched, eyes wide. The video was of her father, looking grey and exhausted, climbing warily into a van, a rifle at his back. He was surrounded by figures in bandanas. Jyn touched the image of his face on the screen lightly, then pulled her hand away like she’d been burned. She looked up guiltily, to find Cassian watching her with an expression she couldn’t read.

Seeing her father—it was like something inside of her broke down.

Looking back down at the screen, she quietly said, “I’ll do it.”

“The CIA helps its friends,” Cassian said. “Just help us first.”

“I said I’d do it,” she snarled.

Esso took the iPad back and retreated back into the connecting room. Jyn hated him in that moment, hated Esso and hated Cassian and hated the whole fucking lot of them.

“You’re all such fucking hypocrites,” she said, defeated.

If his face was any indication, Cassian’s conscience was untroubled.

“Am I supposed to apologize?” he asked mildly.

Jyn gave him a long look. “I don’t care, so long as you keep your promises,” she said, voice hard.

“You don’t trust me.” It wasn’t a question.

“No,” she replied, “but right now, I have something better than trust.”

Cassian frowned, not understanding.

“Right now, I have something that you _want_ ,” Jyn explained, insouciant and lounging, a smile arching her lips. She leaned in, as if sharing a secret. “As I say, better than trust.”

“How expedient,” he said, his eyes searching her face.

“I like to think so,” she said.

Who knew what he was watching for, and if, when he looked away, he did so because he’d found it, or because he hadn’t.

He exhaled, and retrieved a sheet of paper from a file folder on the desk. “Okay. Let’s begin,” he said. “This is Krennic’s operation.” He handed Jyn a sheaf of paper filled with a complicated network of names, places, and organizations. The fact that he was trusting her immediately with all sorts of sensitive and dangerous information was surprising to her.

He sat down next to her on the bed, pointing out various key points and smelling of coffee and sweat and tobacco. Jyn followed his finger as it traced along the lines connecting Krennic’s legitimate business, a security firm and weapons development company known as KrenTech, and the dodgier offshots: gunrunning, primarily, but certainly not exclusively. Krennic had fingers in all sorts of pies, from drugs to girls to hacking.

“Why are you telling me all this?” she asked. “I know you don’t trust _me_.”

He looked at her a moment, before reaching into his trouser pocket and pulling out a battered-looking roll of Tums. He frowned as he emptied two into his hand and popped them into his mouth pensively, as if the mere thought of trusting her was giving him heartburn.

“Whether we like it or not, we’re in this together now,” he said.

Jyn noticed he hadn’t contradicted her.

***

Melshi answered her knock the next morning.

“Good morning,” he said pleasantly. “Mummy and Daddy are fighting again.”

“Would you like to know the odds of this operation failing?” she heard Esso say to Cassian out on the balcony.

Cassian, when he replied, sounded tired. “I always do, don’t I?”

“87%.”

Cassian snorted. “Not so good, then?”

Esso huffed impatiently, and reentered the room without another word. He gave Jyn an absolutely filthy look, and walked out the front door. Cassian entered from the balcony shortly after, and greeted Jyn with a nod.

“Sleep okay?” he said shortly.

Jyn nodded, unsure what that had to do with anything. She had the vague idea that it was his perfunctory way of checking in on people. 

“Good,” he replied, seeming relieved to have the pleasantries out of the way. “I wasn’t lying when I said that women tend to throw these men off. So, here’s the plan: you will pose as Melshi’s girlfriend.”

Jyn frowned, but continued listening.

Cassian clocked her expression and said, by way of explanation, “Men like these don’t trust traffickers who put women in power. These are not middle-class eco-terrorist groups you’re familiar with. These men are poor, uneducated, and obsessed with looking macho.”

“You looked me up.”

“Of course I did. Now, your job is to be distracting. You must be above suspicion, which means _no weapons_.” He held his hand out. Jyn, grumbling, handed over the little pistol she kept tucked in her pants. “Melshi and I will take care of the rest, okay?”

Jyn nodded, but she wasn’t that comfortable with the plan. She was well able to play the part of the silly bright young thing, and had done so many times, but she’d always had someone she trusted by her side: Saw and his men, many of whom saw her as a kind of daughter, or, lately, Bodhi, Chirrut, and Baze. Playing this kind of character left you completely vulnerable, in more ways than one: skimpy outfits meant few weapons, and believable wide-eyed naivety meant little control over where the situation went. If things spiralled out of control—and they frequently did, when violent men were involved—they would be there for her. She wasn’t sure she could trust Cassian and Melshi the same way, but what the fuck could she do about that?

She returned to her own room, and put Liana’s clothes on thoughtfully. Sky-blue halter-top bodycon dress, laughably inappropriate shoes for the desert, and lots and lots of candy-scented lipgloss. The smile in her reflection looked empty. 

One last touch.

She laced her garter holster around her thigh and slid a knife in. Rolling her dress down over it, she checked it in the mirror. No one would be able to see it.

They arrived at the meeting place, an abandoned boxing gym in a sad-looking strip mall. Jyn was already in character as she walked in, draped across Melshi, all eyelashes.

“Mmm, you smell good,” she said, giggling.

Melshi blushed, and she met Cassian’s eye like a challenge.

“Slow down, Liana,” he said shortly.

“What, are you afraid Melshi here’s gonna get his powder wet?” she drawled, patting her fake boyfriend on the shoulder.

Cassian rolled his eyes.

There was a sharpness in the air, and Jyn felt electric, all jagged edges.

Every step closer to the boxing gym wound her up more tightly. Melshi’s soft touch on her hip suddenly felt unbearable. She wanted to run. She didn’t trust these people.

Four men were inside the gym. One was enormous, bigger than Baze, with a matching gun. Another was slightly smaller, but still terrifying, with a rifle. The two beside them were smaller, with bored expressions, fingering the pistols at their hips. One was wearing a red linen button-down, the other a sky blue one. Jyn’s heart began to pound in her ears. She didn’t stand a chance against all of them. She was trapped in here, and she tried to check for exits surreptitiously.

One of the smaller men greeted them in Spanish, and Jyn smiled, sickly-sweet, even though she felt a cold dread clamping tight in her chest. Both Cassian and Melshi replied in Spanish. Her heart dropped. She had assumed that Melshi only spoke English—she’d certainly never heard him speak Spanish before—and had thought that the meeting would at least be translated for them. But no, she realized now, they would be talking entirely in a language she didn’t understand.

She would have no idea what they were talking about. She blinked, and ran a hand down Melshi’s arm lazily. He said something and it sounded like she was being introduced. She looked up and smiled winningly. Both of the smaller men took her hand and pressed lingering kisses on it, leering up at her. Their hands on her arm felt arrogant, somehow, like they wanted her to know that she was there for their pleasure, _at_ their pleasure.

She flicked her gaze to Cassian, and he was watching with his mouth set in a thin line. He said something curt in Spanish, and the man released her. She flitted back to Melshi, hoping he would get the message that she had not signed up to be touched. The knife, she reflected, had been a good idea. 

Cassian began to talk seriously with the blue-shirted man, while the other man let his eyes roam over Jyn’s body: a gaze that felt possessive and violating and stripping. She was far too vulnerable here.

It sickened her, but she had to play along, so she met the man’s gaze, careful to keep her face flirtatious, open, accessible. If she went too far, he might think she was offering something up, but if she didn’t respond in some sort of positive fashion, he might do something worse. Usually she could walk this line very well, but, without any sort of safety net, without any line on who, exactly, these men were, she felt far too exposed. She hated that Cassian had put her in this position. She hated that she had let him put her in this position.

The conversation stalled, and the red-shirted man continued to look at her. He licked his lips suggestively, and she acted like she hadn’t seen, choosing to occupy herself by toying with the collar of Melshi’s shirt with a pouty expression. Playing bored was always a safe option.

She heard the word _español_ , which made her ears perk up. She thought they might have been asking if she spoke Spanish.

“ _¿Habla español, hermosa?_ ” the red-shirted one said to her slowly, smoothly, and she suspected he was repeating himself.

She blinked innocently at him, then looked up at Melshi as if for help.

The two smaller men laughed. She heard a sentence that contained two words she knew: _gringa_ and _puta_. The blue-shirted one said something, then, and they laughed again.

Jyn felt her anxiety ratchet up another notch. Who knew what they were saying, what Cassian had been saying that whole time? Maybe she had been foolish to trust him, CIA or no. Perhaps he wasn’t CIA after all. Perhaps Saw had wanted to fuck with her one last time. She ought to have learned her lesson with him by now. Saw could not be trusted. How many times would she have to be betrayed before it stuck?

She would normally look to one of her own people for help at this point, to try to communicate to them that it had gone too far, but she didn’t want to look stupid in front of Cassian and Melshi. She felt embarrassed, and she didn’t know why. Why weren’t they stepping in on their own?

Suddenly, she felt herself being pulled over by unyielding hands. She yelped, surprised. The red-shirted man had grabbed her by the waist and pulled her to him. Melshi went to grab her back, clearly unamused, but Cassian stopped him with a hand. His face was unreadable.

Jyn tried to shift out of his hands, heart in her throat, but he simply pulled her closer. What was happening? What did he want?

Cassian was saying something in Spanish which sounded, to Jyn’s ears, impatient, but the red-shirted man didn’t listen. Even the blue-shirted man seemed unhappy with the situation.

The man’s hands traveled down her waist and to her thighs. She struggled against him, but he held on more tightly. She didn’t want to blow this, but he was fucking _testing_ her.

And then his hand brushed over the strap of her holster, and he froze. Jyn stayed stock-still, hardly daring to breathe.

“ _¿Qué…?_ ” he said. He shoved her a bit, pulled that side of her dress up roughly, and yanked the garter around her thigh so the knife was on the outside of her leg. She nearly fell with how violent he was being.

“Oi!” she heard Melshi shout, followed by Cassian’s sharp, “ _¡Qué chingado, cabrón!_ ”

The man holding her shouted something in Spanish, and began to shake her. Jyn had had enough. She kneed him in the balls, grabbed her knife, turned him so his back was to her front, and held the knife at his throat.

She was breathing heavily as she seethed, “You fucking touch me again, and I’ll gut you.”

The man put his hands up. Jyn was practically shaking. Someone fired a shot, and she jolted. It had been the bodyguard. The red-shirted man took his moment, and spun around to face her. He knocked the knife out of her hand and went to punch her. She ducked, spun, and kicked him in the jaw before he reset from the momentum of the punch. Blue-shirt approached now, but another two shots rang through the air, hitting him in the leg. Jyn’s head spun to see Cassian calmly holding up his gun while Melshi dealt with Red-shirt.

“Liana!” Cassian said, but it was too late. One guard was approaching her, while the other was attacking him. Another two gunshots rang through the air. Distracted, she wasn’t able to completely dodge the heavyweight punch the bodyguard threw in her direction, and it hit her square in the shoulder.

A sickening popping noise rang through the gym as the man’s massive fist connected. Pain like a motherfucker shot through her as she careened towards the floor, landing with a great wheeze of pain.

Another shot rang out.

She grasped her shoulder with the opposite hand, gasping huge lungfuls of breath as Melshi looked down at her with a shock that was comical. She writhed on the ground, her face contorting in pain.

“Fuck!” Melshi exclaimed, guilt scrolling across his face as he knelt down next to her. “What’s happened?”

“S’alright,” Jyn grunted, nearly unable to speak. A sick-hot blossoming of agony in her shoulder clouded things for a moment. She gritted her teeth. “My— fault.”

She became vaguely aware of a third party entering her periphery.

“ _¡Chingada madre!”_ Cassian. He was standing over her with a grimace on his face. “What happened? What’s wrong?” he demanded.

“My—shoulder. Fuck. Fuck, I think it’s dislocated,” she gasped.

“ _Ay, Dios_ ,” she heard Cassian mutter to himself. “We’ll have to relocate it, or else call a doctor.”

Panic rose in Jyn. It felt like her shoulder was on fire. Waiting for a doctor to come seemed impossible, untenable.

“No—just—can you fix it?” she grit out, pain exploding through her as she tried to move it experimentally.

“Yes, yes, I—I’ve done it before,” he said, hastily pulling his suit jacket off and rolling up his sleeves. In any other situation, Jyn might have laughed at the slight edge of panic in his voice. The frosty Agent Andor, human after all. 

He sat down next to her, a mere foot or so away, and it wasn’t close enough to help her and still it seemed too close to be professional. His hand hovered, unsure. There was something endearing about him in the moment, despite the pain making her thoughts buzz and shake. Or, perhaps—because of it.

“Sit up,” he ordered gently. “Take it slow.”

Slowly, breathing deeply, she shifted into a sitting position with Melshi’s help. Meanwhile, Cassian was maneuvering himself so he was behind her, rolling his shirt-sleeves up.

His palm felt shockingly warm as it came to rest on the dislocated shoulder, and the pain seem to recede the tiniest amount. An expression of exquisite concentration came over his face and the hand not on her shoulder grasped her own gently. She was breathing heavily through the pain.

“This is going to hurt,” he said, voice oddly hushed. She nodded. Their faces were no more than few inches apart. “I’m going to raise your arm slowly, okay?”

Without waiting for her to reply, his hand lifted hers, inch by agonizing inch. The pain was unbelievable. Her eyes began to scald with tears.

“I know,” he said. “Lean back on me.”

He moved forward, minutely, and used the hand on her shoulder to pull her back so her head was resting on his chest. She tensed up. He smelled good, like citrus and coffee, but she did not trust him and suddenly she wished she hadn’t taken him up on his offer. He continued lifting her arm, and the pain of it made her vision go spotty, nauseating waves of black ants. She felt trapped and too-hot and panicky and the pain was claustrophobic in its enormity.

Anxiety mounting, she tensed up further as he continued inexorably upward. She let out a gasp, eyes squeezed shut, and started to shift uncomfortably as the pain in her shoulder swallowed her up. All she wanted was to get away from him.

“I can’t,” she wheezed.

“Stop fighting me,” he murmured softly, voice like gravel. “You’re fighting me.”

“I’m not—it hurts—”

“Okay. Okay. Relax your shoulder for me,” he said, voice sliding into something low and soothing. “We’re nearly there. Stay with me, Jyn.” Breathing deeply, she tried to let her shoulder and arm relax. “Good. Good, like that,” he crooned. “On three. One.” Her arm was nearly level, and she thought she might pass out from the pain. Her breath became more and more shallow and panicked. “Keep breathing,” Cassian said gently. “Two. And—”

Her shoulder slotted back into place with an audible popping noise, and she felt both her and Cassian’s bodies slump in relief. The worst of the pain was immediately gone, leaving only a dull ache behind. Jyn felt like she could breathe again, and she hastily wiped the tears from her eyes. Cassian’s body was warm and solid behind hers, and the relief was so profound that she didn’t even feel uncomfortable with their closeness.

“Fuck’s sake,” Jyn muttered, suddenly exhausted. Her shoulder was throbbing dully, and she felt like she’d been hit by a truck. She needed painkillers, and to sleep for about twenty years. Suddenly, she realized how close she and Cassian were to each other, how she’d put herself in his hands so freely. Coming back to herself, she skittered away from him, licking her wounds.

***

After taking a truckload of painkillers and sleeping for ten hours, she sought out Cassian, and found him in his office. Bodhi had told her that the CIA agent wanted to speak to her when she woke up. She knocked gently, and he called for her to come in. He was sitting behind his desk.

“You wanted to see me?” she said.

Cassian inhaled deeply, and asked, “How’s your shoulder?”

“Alright,” she replied. “Pain meds are helping.”

“Good,” he said quietly.

The air seemed heavy and awkward. Jyn had a sudden flash of his face, so close to hers as he lifted her arm upwards and upwards, the warmth of his hands, the way the pain had made her feel flayed open and all too vulnerable in front of him. It had been too much. She wondered if he was thinking the same thing, if that was the strange thing weighing on the moment. She would give anything to see inside his mind.

“Cass—”

“I can’t help but wonder,” he interrupted, jaw set, “was it on purpose?”

There was something smoldering in his voice, a banked flame, and Jyn found suddenly that she wanted to see how far she could push things, how high she could make the flames jump.

“What a stupid question,” she said.

“Is it, though?” he asked. “You are so selfish, I wouldn’t be surprised if you risked the health of this operation in order to spite me.”

Jyn felt her own ire rise with alarming speed. “He _touched_ me,” she said, lips curled in disgust.

“He wasn’t touching you when you brought that knife even when I expressly forbid you—”

“Well, you obviously weren’t going to do anything about it! He was halfway up my dress before you even _said_ anything!” she cried.

Cassian leaned in, eyes burning. “If you would have listened to me—”

“Do you have any idea what a vulnerable position you put me in, making me Melshi’s fucking _girlfriend_?”

His palm curled into a fist where it lay on the desk. He was absolutely seething. “If you had issues with the op, you should have told me. If you have a problem, _talk_ to me. That’s how this works,” he said. “I don’t know how it worked elsewhere, but you _do not_ just go rogue. For this to work, we need to trust each other.”

“Trust?” Jyn scoffed. “ _Trust?_ ”

All that she had come to depend upon in her life had been taken from her, or sullied in some way: her mother, her father, the farm, Saw. How the fuck could she trust what lay ahead, when what lay behind was nothing but ruins? Who exactly was supposed to rely upon? Melshi, who seemed so lovely but who she barely knew? Esso, who hated her guts? Cassian, the least trustworthy of them all?

Obscurely, she sensed something had been taken from her before she even realized she’d had it. The ability to trust others, to trust the world around her. Love and loyalty became things that had to be continuously earned with obedience and hard work and self-denial, carrots to be dangled overhead. One bad day of training meant being left in the cold. The tumultuous years that had followed her leaving home were a painful lesson, and one that she had not forgotten.

“You’re saying I should trust _you_ , when you blackmailed me into this whole thing?”

“ _Ay, no mames_ , Jyn, I didn’t blackmail anyone, we had an understanding.”

“An understanding…” she said, drawing the word out. “No. No, we had you exploiting my love for my father. Using it against me.”

She wondered how many more betrayals it would take for her to learn the lesson Saw had clearly been trying to teach her: love was a weapon, and one that could only be used against you. She could see now how hers for Saw had been exploited and manipulated. It had been a tool is Saw’s arsenal, carefully honed and sharpened, just as her family’s love had been one in Krennic’s.

Cassian chuckled. “You don’t even care, do you?”

He suddenly opened a folder on his desk and began shuffling madly through it, yanking out glossy photos and shoving them at her. It was the most animated she’d ever seen him. Jyn leaned forward robotically. They were pictures of bodies, laid out in grassy plains and salt flats and snow, bullet wounds like gaping holes; severed limbs and unseeing eyes; young boys holding guns and grinning. Jyn’s eyes widened at the photos, a black sickness rising in her throat, and she looked away as quickly as she could.

“This is what he does,” Cassian said lowly, his voice like a dull blade. “This is what you are letting happen because you’re upset about your father.”

“I was _angry_ —” she objected, rapidly losing her grip on the conversation.

“I don’t _care_ if you’re angry,” he raged back, as still as a stone, but practically vibrating with fury. “There are people _dying_ because of Krennic, people _suffering_ — _that’s_ what I care about!”

“ _I can’t afford that_ ,” she said, her customary defensiveness rising to protect her from her guilt. She felt as if she were drowning. “ _I cannot afford that.”_

“Some of us don’t have a choice!” Cassian yelled. “Some of us can’t afford it, but we do it _anyway_!”

His breathing was erratic, his fist clenched on the table, his eyes alight and ablaze, and Jyn was afraid she had severely underestimated how high the flames could go, and had burned herself terribly on them. She suddenly had the sense that Cassian was forever beating back something passionate and untamed inside of him, that if anything ever broke the dam of his ironclad composure, the resulting flood would leave no survivors. 

Jyn swallowed thickly, unable to look away from him.

He leaned forward.

“I have no leverage besides your father,” he said, quiet again, “and you are this operation’s last hope.”

Desperation burned in his eyes. Perhaps, Jyn thought, he was as trapped as she was. She understood his quiet admission to be the closest thing to an apology she’d ever get from him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter has by far the most translations:  
> suéltame - let me go  
> ayuda - help  
> ayúdeme - help me  
> te lo juro - I swear to you  
> lo se - I know  
> tranquilo, hermaño - relax, brother  
> carajo - this is slang, a curse that is being used here as something like fuck's sake  
> intrusos - intruders  
> no me chingues - this is slang, an explicit way for Cassian to tell Jyn to stop fucking with him  
> chingada madre - slang, a curse that is being used here as something like fucking hell  
> qué chingado, cabrón - wtf asshole  
> no mames - slang, a curse that is being used here as another way to say don't bullshit me
> 
> guys I really love Mexican slang it is fantastic
> 
> Also: a lot of this was inspired by that tweet that said "someone said people whose favorite trope is enemies to lovers are enticed by the idea of showing someone the worst parts of yourself first and still having them fall in love with you and that shit hurted" (@tranganhdong)
> 
> bye!!!!!


	2. YO TE LLEVO EN MI GARGANTA Y EN MIS MANOS

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> chapter title translation: I carry you in my throat and in my hands
> 
> 1\. I want it to be clear that I in no way wish to minimize the issue of the USA's frankly horrifying and immoral treatment of immigrants crossing the border, not to mention its behavior as a neo-colonial imperial power. I hope I haven't offended by using the conflict the US engenders as part of this story. There are all sorts of avenues that one can take to help stop the inhumane treatment of immigrants, whether it's demanding that ICE be abolished (if you're American), donating money to organizations aimed at helping immigrants, or simply spreading the word.
> 
> 2\. On the same note: I really adore Mexico and Mexican culture, and I hope that comes through here. I did a bunch of research while writing this, but it's very possible I got something wrong - please let me know if that is the case & I will remedy immediately. Jyn and Cassian's trip to Mexico City was mainly so I could have an excuse to look at CDMX travel guides. 
> 
> 3\. On a much lighter note: Jyn's dress is based on the one Due Lipa wore on Jimmy Kimmel, like, 2 years ago. You can see it at https://www.vogue.com/vogueworld/article/dua-lipa-the-tonight-show-starring-jimmy-fallon-versace-atelier-holiday-dress
> 
> 4\. There is no such safe as a Haymarket. I made it up. I did research safe-cracking, though, and that is FASCINATING. You can watch a champion safe-cracker (!) open one here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=r5AD6CbGfoA
> 
> We are earning our rating this chapter, kiddos. You have been warned ;)

Jyn was resting on the couch at Hacienda Rosales, drinking horchata and working on the design of the letterhead of the fake company that was requesting visas for their fake employees. She couldn’t stop thinking about her father, couldn’t stop seeing him being forced into a van at gunpoint.

Was she being selfish, like Cassian had said, by caring more about him than about the potential victims of the Death Star? She tried to imagine what her father would say, but realized she couldn’t remember enough about him to guess. Saw probably would have told her no, but Jyn had grown up enough since her days with him to realize Saw’s moral compass rarely oriented north. No, it oriented to whatever was most expedient for Saw. The thought skirted uncomfortably close to Cassian’s accusation. Perhaps the apple didn’t fall far from the tree when it came to her and Saw. She’d never thought of herself as selfish, as self-serving, but as scrappy, as a survivor. She’d done what she had to do. The discomfiting thought that this might be the precise definition of selfishness entered her mind.

She sighed. Her shoulder hurt. Part of her was inclined to accept Cassian’s criticism as valid. Perhaps she shouldn’t have reacted so aggressively to that man’s touch, shouldn’t have brought a knife in the first place. She’d placed her own safety over the safety of millions of others. But—didn’t she count, too? Didn’t her own feelings matter? How could she help but feel resentful when, once again, her choices were being taken from her? Hadn’t she lost enough? Cassian spoke as if she knew nothing of the suffering Krennic caused, as if she hadn’t lost her whole family, her whole life, because of him. She was so confused. 

Bodhi seemed eager to trust Cassian and the CIA, and he’d asked her to reveal to Cassian that he was working with her. He wanted to be part of the team, though his enthusiasm had admittedly been a bit soured when Jyn came back from San Luis with a dislocated shoulder.

Jyn’s musings were interrupted by Krennic sitting down on the couch next to her.

“Working hard?” he asked.

She blinked. “Yes, sir,” she said. “This is paperwork for the visas.”

“Good, good,” he said. “How’s your shoulder?”

“Much better,” she replied. “Your doctor said I should be able to take the sling off in two weeks. Thank you for letting me see him.”

“No worries,” he said, waving it off. He seemed to be expecting something from her, and fixed his electric blue eyes on hers.

“I wanted to apologize,” she said. “We lost the Calexico routes, and it’s all my—”

“Please, Liana, Will told me everything.”

She frowned, trying to disguise the sinking feeling she got at his words. “He did?” What version, she wondered, had Cassian served up? Would he reconsider asking for her help, and use this opportunity to regain Krennic’s favor?

“Sure,” Krennic said. His expression was sinister in its false cheeriness. “He told me that he and Melshi had let things get out of hand, and you were only protecting yourself.”

Oh.

He’d–he’d _covered_ for her. Some jagged edge in her, one that she’d hadn’t even realized had existed, felt sanded down. Maybe she could trust him. She could trust him enough to work with him, at least.

She didn’t, however, want to fall into any kind of trap. So, she simply said, “Yes, sir,” noncommittally.

“Normally, that kind of failure would be punished,” he said, making Jyn swallow nervously, “but you got lucky, Liana my girl.” He grinned. “The Calexicos’ rival gang, Los Chavas, heard about you, and they’re hoping, with our help, to stage a coup.”

Jyn blinked.

“They’ve refused to work with us in the past, mainly because they dislike Will, and who can blame them, he’s a prickly bastard, but they admire you so much that they’re willing to form a partnership.”

“Oh,” Jyn said, smiling. “That’s fantastic!”

He patted her hand in a fatherly fashion, and she had to work not to flinch at the touch. “So you get better soon, because they’ll only meet with you,” he said. He got up to leave. “Rest up, get your fluids, all that.”

“Thank you, sir, I will,” she said, practically making herself sick with how pathetically grateful she sounded.

She returned to her musings when she left, Cassian’s actions only compounding her confusion. He’d defended her, and at his own expense. Did this mean he could be trusted? Was the ground getting firmer under her feet? She wasn’t sure. She wished that she had someone to talk to, someone impartial. Bodhi was too biased by his naïve devotion to her father. Perhaps she could find a way to talk to Chirrut. He’d set her straight, like he always did.

***

That evening, she met Cassian in his little office to, as he’d put it, “talk about the next steps.” Everything had happened so quickly that she’d barely even thought of how the arrangement would work. She had to consider what, exactly, she wanted to tell him. Should she ask him about Stardust, which, as far as she knew, he had no knowledge of? Should she inform him of her plan to break into the safe she’d seen in Krennic’s office? Cassian already knew about Bodhi, Chirrut, and Baze, but that had only been at their request. Her father had told her to trust Fulcrum, but what if he’d been mistaken? Cassian had done enough to earn her confidence; that didn’t mean that had he done enough to earn her _trust_.

He limped around his desk. Sitting with an air of exhaustion, he gestured to the seat in front of it. She obeyed soundlessly, watching him with careful eyes.

“They’re calling you _la gringa loca_ in Calexico.”

Jyn snorted. “They’ll be singing folk songs about me, one day,” she said.

“I must say,” he replied mildly, “I was very impressed with your technique.”

She rolled her eyes.

“No, really, Jyn,” he said, lighting a cigarette.

She looked up in alarm at her real name.

“Don’t worry,” he said, waving her off, “I’ve checked for bugs already.” He paused to exhale, and shuffled some papers around on his desk. “So, let’s see…first thing is call sign. Yours will be Kestrel.”

“What’s that, a bird or something?” Jyn asked, plainly unimpressed. She began examining her nails in an attempt to annoy him. He didn’t seem to notice, to Jyn’s chagrin.

“Yes. A falcon,” he said. “We chose it because the kestrel is very small, but very deadly.”

Jyn looked up at that, unsure if he was being sarcastic. Was he, Cassian Andor, even the type of person to make a joke? His face was impenetrable, as placid as the driven snow. She looked at him for a moment with a thoughtful expression, but his every window and door was locked up tight against her. He seemed, then, to shift uncomfortably under her gaze, dark eyes turning to his papers and shuffling them uselessly.

Jyn had, for a moment, a hysterical desire to ask him what he was really feeling. It passed quickly, but, as it left, something snagged in her chest and stayed there.

“Your first assignment will be to get inside the lab,” he said. “I imagine your friend Bodhi could be of some use to you there.”

Jyn bristled a bit at the way Cassian seemed to have commandeered her friend, but she had to concede that they’d already been planning to use Bodhi to get in the labs.

They discussed _how_ he might do so for most of the night.

A few hours later, both exhausted, they decided they had done enough for one evening. They’d hammered out their strategy and the specifics of how Bodhi would get inside. It was a good start.

Jyn had been preparing to leave when Cassian said, to the background noise of cicadas, “I just have one more question.” He leaned in over his desk, hands folded neatly. “How did you know who I was?”

“Your call sign. Bodhi heard it the night of the break-in.”

He frowned “But how did you know _I_ was Fulcrum, or that Fulcrum was CIA?” He paused. “Because I didn’t kill you?”

Jyn’s answering smile was a twitch. “That certainly made me suspicious,” she said, “but Saw is the one who told me.”

“Saw? Gerrara? Your foster father?”

She nodded.

Cassian looked thoughtful for a moment. “I can’t imagine Saw Gerrara raising a child,” he mused.

Jyn looked up, but kept her expression shuttered.

“He made me what I am today,” she said, trying to keep her voice neutral and not _quite_ managing.

Cassian observed her carefully for a moment, his eyes dark and watchful. Jyn regretted showing her hand the way she had. She felt in that moment that he saw everything.

“I don’t know about that,” he said mildly. He extracted two Tums from his roll and popped them into his mouth. “Especially since he let you go to prison for him.”

Something bitter rose up in her, and she wanted for a moment to confirm the fact that, as a father figure, Saw had been somewhat lacking. But she suddenly realized what Cassian was doing and bit her tongue. He was trying to feel out information about her childhood and about Saw.

“You don’t know the first thing about my relationship with Saw,” she said coldly.

He seemed unmoved, save for a slight raise of his eyebrows. “I don’t pretend to.”

They stared at each other over his desk. The clock was ticking loudly in the quiet of the office. Cassian looked away first, reaching around his desk chair for his jacket.

“We’ll meet same time tomorrow?” he asked.

She nodded, feeling utterly trapped by the situation she’d found herself in. Her sudden feeling of claustrophobia reminded her more than ever why she wanted to see Chirrut.

“Oh—by the way,” she said, “Is there any way to make sure you’re not being followed? Some kind of…smoke-and-mirrors thing?”

He looked mildly surprised, before nodding and saying quietly, “We call it ‘dry-cleaning.’ Determining if you’re being followed, setting false trails, losing a tail…” He trailed off, seemingly lost in his thoughts, and settled back into his chair. Jyn watched with puzzlement as the silence stretched out between them. “It’s…difficult,” he continued, slowly, looking as though he were miles away. “You must…suspect everyone you see on the street. You must obscure your true purpose and destination.”

Everything seemed suspended in that moment, hanging in the air like something sacred. If Jyn stepped outside the door of the office right then, she wouldn’t be surprised if there was nothing and no one beyond it. The clock seemed to tick even louder in her ears. Cassian began to rub at his leg absentmindedly.

“If anyone seems to be watching you too closely, or seeing you too clearly, you must throw them off the scent. Duck into a shop, exit the subway car, make a sudden U-turn.”

Something about him, in that moment was enthralling to Jyn. He seemed weary, and hunted, and full of doubts. His hand was making slow, sure, pained circles into the thigh and knee of his injured leg. She watched him for a moment, as though hypnotized.

His dark eyes suddenly lighted upon her. He abruptly realized what he was doing, but didn’t comment beyond a muttered, “Sore,” and a closed-off expression that indicated he was not talking about it. The spell had been broken. “Is there—some reason in particular? You are afraid you’re being followed?”

Jyn, in that moment, felt sure that she would never know how this man really felt.

She shook her head. “I need to see Chirrut.”

“I’ll have someone drive you,” he said.

She was a little taken aback at his easy acceptance. “Thanks.”

He nodded once. “Good night, Jyn,” he said, turning back to his papers. “Good work today.”

She took it for the dismissal it was, and left silently.

***

“You know the plan?”

“Yes,” Bodhi replied, voice tight with anxiety. He was sweating.

Jyn smiled, and patted him on the cheek lovingly. “You’ll do great.”

He grimaced.

“You will! You already did the hard part, which was stealing the badge. Just be your usual charming self.”

Her and Cassian’s plan was being put into motion. They needed to get access to the high-security areas of KrenTech labs, where her father’s research, and the Death Star itself, would most likely be. Bodhi’s own ID card wouldn’t work, so they’d had to swipe one from an upper-level scientist, or, rather, _Bodhi_ had had to swipe one. The poor man was not the ideal candidate for espionage, as he broke out in nervous sweats and spontaneously developed an eye twitch whenever he was anxious, but he’d been successful nevertheless: Bodhi had stolen the pass with extensive direction on Jyn’s part and much hand-wringing on his own.

Since Jyn was housebound for the time being, and frequently alone save for Ximena, it hadn’t been as difficult as she’d thought it would be. It helped that she was forging other documents at the same time, and using the same techniques and machines to do so. It had still taken her a few days, though, mainly because Ximena was a nosy bastard, always bustling around with horchata and tequila and freshly-cut melon.

Today, Bodhi’s mission was not as straightforward: gather as much information about Galen and the Death Star as possible. He’d been friendly with Galen, so it wouldn’t raise too many red flags.

“Wish me luck,” Bodhi said, leaving Jyn at her customary perch on the couch.

She returned to her work. Lately, she’d taken to listening to Spanish-language lessons on a beat-up Walkman, supplied to her by Melshi. She’d repeat the cheery voice’s canned phrases as she digitally altered images or dyed fibers. Her mind didn’t really seem wired right for language learning, so she was struggling _badly_.

If her days were spent skulking around the house avoiding Ximena and muttering to herself in poorly-accented Spanish, her evenings were spent with Cassian, talking and planning for hours. He’d return from his day-to-day duties, face pinched and pale, and check his office for bugs before sitting down heavily on his chair and asking her how her shoulder was. His diet, Jyn reckoned, can’t have helped: she had never seen him eat or drink anything besides black coffee and Tums.

They’d been meeting for several days now, and she felt no closer to understanding how his mind worked, what went on behind those eyes. It was strange living in each other’s pockets like that and knowing so little about each other. He was a strange man, difficult to get any sort of read on, and the evenings spent with him, the only noise the chirping cicadas, the darkness seeming to stretch on for miles outside, seemed only to confuse her further.

And yet: she still felt close to him somehow, in those still evening hours; the insular liminality of his quiet office, which made it feel like they were the only two people left on earth, can’t have helped. Though she wouldn’t say she _knew_ him, by now she was familiar with him, with his 5 o’clock shadow and dark-eyed reserve. His voice was rough as sandpaper, and strangely comforting to listen to in the stillness of the office. It made Jyn feel apprehensive and a little bit ashamed, the closeness that was developing even as she resisted it.

She was immensely relieved, then, when she was finally able to see Chirrut. They sat in the back of a little dive bar in Sonora, and Jyn ordered tequila.

“Tell me what’s wrong,” Chirrut said. He knew that, for her to ask to meet him in the thick of such a dangerous job, she must be profoundly troubled.

She remembered when she’d first met him, in the support group her parole officer had recommended she go to. She’d entered the sad-looking place, a disused little classroom in the local high school and sat down next to him warily. It had been the only seat open.

He’d cocked his head. “Kyber crystal?” he’d asked.

Jyn had grabbed her necklace, alarmed and confused and, strangely, protective. It was the last present her mother had given her before she died.

“Kyber is purported to have mystic properties,” he’d said, before adding, wistfully, “It will guide you down your path.”

Jyn had frowned, never one for the New Age nonsense her mother had adored. And yet, something about having a predestined path rang sadly true about her life, during which she’d had so few choices.

Chirrut had been quick to add, “Or so they say.” 

“My mother believed in all that,” Jyn had replied, trying to cushion any hurt she may have caused with her skepticism, and not trusting the urge at all. “This was hers.”

His only response had been a soft, sad smile.

Now, he was crunching thoughtfully on pork rinds, waiting for her answer.

“I want to help,” he encouraged her.

At that, Jyn looked at her friend, her mentor. That simple sentence nearly brought tears to Jyn’s eyes. If only everything else could be so straightforward. She wanted so badly to be able to trust this. She wanted so badly to be able to untangle things, to somehow find a way out of the labyrinth of thoughts and feelings in her head.

“I’m so confused,” she confided to him in a hushed tone.

“What about, little sister?”

She sighed, and slouched. She supposed it all boiled down to Cassian Andor. Him and his accusations that hit a little too close to home. The way he looked at her sometimes. She scowled. The mere idea of having thoughts about him, of trying to understand him, seemed too shameful for her to admit.

So how could she say that she found him strangely magnetic, that she found herself moving closer and closer to him against her own will? How could she say that, at the same time, there were moments she hated him? How could she admit that she didn’t _want_ to care about him, that she didn’t _want_ to care about those pictures he’d shown her that night? It was too much, like getting in a warm bath after being out in the cold for all day. Instead of feeling comfort, her body told her she was being burnt. Every instinct was telling her to leap out and _run_. And yet part of her wanted to hang on, to see what would emerge, scrubbed raw and made clean.

“Agent Andor,” she said.

Chirrut furrowed his brow in confusion.

“I don’t know who to trust,” she elaborated. She closed her eyes. “I don’t know if I can trust anyone.”

She felt more and more that she was without any sort of grounding, like the ice beneath her was getting thinner and thinner and she was about to fall in. Without someone she could trust, without someone she could confide in, she wouldn’t make it through. And yet she knew that if she were to open up to anyone, she wouldn’t survive the pain and shame of it. She was stuck, just waiting for the ice to crack.

“Those are two very different things,” Chirrut said calmly.

“I think—” she cut herself off, fiddling with her tequila glass, refusing to meet even Chirrut’s unseeing eyes. “I think that I lost something along the way. Something like love, or trust, or faith, I don’t know— I put it away, just for the moment, but now I’m afraid—I’m afraid that it’s gone forever, Chirrut.” Her eyes were hot with tears, and she turned away, ashamed, as they began to run down her face. “I’m afraid it’s gone for good.”

“Oh, no, no,” Chirrut assured her gently. “Those things are never gone. Unlocking them again, once they’ve been put away, is just difficult, that’s all.”

Jyn stared at her hands. “There are too many barriers between me and him. Too many complications.”

“Ah,” Chirrut said. “I don’t know him very well. But I can say this, little sister: he has the face of a friend.”

She looked at him like he’d grown another head. _The face of a friend_? What the fuck did that mean, and to a blind man? She wished people would stop speaking in lapidary riddles.

“Maybe…” she eventually conceded. “Maybe in a different life, in different circumstances…”

“Oh, Jyn,” Chirrut said, “but who knows how many lifetimes you’ve been denied this?”

“Chirrut, what are you talking about?” Jyn frowned.

“You have been given _another chance_ ,” he said. “To get to a place of beauty, we must frequently walk painful and frightening paths.”

“A place of beauty?” she scoffed. “What place of beauty?”

“I’m afraid we won’t know until we get there,” he said. “But you can feel it, can’t you? The promise of it?”

That took Jyn aback, because—she could. But it felt far too delicate to have any kind of faith in. It required something from Jyn that she wasn’t sure she had in her. She simply didn’t have the tools to water it; she didn’t even have the trust that it would one day bloom. She looked inward and saw only a lack.

“If you can’t trust him,” Chirrut said, “ _trust_ _that_.”

***

The next night, she was waiting for Cassian, talking to Melshi outside the door of the room he used as an office. She frequently stopped to chat with the bodyguard, and she learned that he used to be a policeman, and they sometimes bitched about Cassian together. Jyn liked the way he hammed up his accent for her. It made her miss home.

“I wish it would rain,” Melshi was saying, looking longingly out the window.

“Why don’t you go back to Scotland, then?” she asked. “What’s keeping you here?”

“The dough,” he grinned. “And the shite food there.”

Jyn laughed. “You don’t miss the chippy?”

“Oh, aye, of course, but they’ve got enough churros and such here to keep me happy.”

She smiled.

Cassian arrived, then, looking as if he were about to fall over. His eyes darted between Jyn and Melshi warily.

“Hiya, boss,” Melshi said.

Cassian gave a faint smile, clearly not in the mood but trying anyway. “ _¿Que pedo?_ ” he said quietly. He could be so soft-spoken, for such a dangerous man.

“Oh, you know,” Melshi replied sunnily. He was constantly trying to draw Cassian out, and rarely succeeding.

Cassian rolled his eyes at Melshi and opened the door, gesturing for Jyn to enter. Looking shattered, even by his own standards, he swept for bugs before dropping onto his chair with a heavy exhale.

“Alright?” she asked.

He opened his eyes and nodded, his smile slight and tentative, but genuine.

“Long day,” he said. “I set up a meeting with Los Chavas.”

As they talked about what progress they’d made during the day—Bodhi was still working his connections in the lab—she tried to avoid slipping into the usual late-night spell of their meetings. Something in his expression looked more open and mobile than usual. Jyn supposed that he must be exhausted beyond even his own rigid filters.

Periodically, he’d rub at his eyes or run his hands through his hair, and it made Jyn think of her initial impression of him as boyish when they’d first met. He looked oddly vulnerable in the fluorescent lighting of the office.

The night wore on as usual, talking about operational plans and codenames and all that secret-agent shite, until Cassian seemed out of agenda items.

“Anything else?” he asked.

Jyn considered a moment. She’d been thinking about telling him about Stardust since her meeting with Chirrut. She was trying to take his advice, to have trust in the promise of things, or whatever. And what did she have to lose, really? She hardly knew anything about it. She’d be trading a small piece of information for, potentially, some answers about her father. 

“There was—there was one thing,” she said. “Have you heard of Stardust? A project of my father’s?”

He frowned. “No. What is it?”

Jyn shook her head. “I was hoping you could shed some light,” she said. “All I know is that it’s a weapon of some kind.”

“ _Another_ weapon?” he said, leaning back in his chair. He retrieved his roll of Tums from his pants pocket. “ _Pinche mierde_.”

“My father gave Bodhi a note that said he should tell me about it,” Jyn explained further. “But he has no idea what it is, or what it’s supposed to do.”

Cassian looked thoughtful a moment. “Okay,” he ultimately said. “Let me see what I can find out. Maybe Bodhi can try too.” He paused, and looked at Jyn with an uncharacteristically warm expression. “Thank you, Jyn. For telling me.”

Jyn shrugged, trying not to show how pleased she was with herself. Maybe—maybe she wasn’t as hopeless as she’d thought. “Might be important,” she said.

Finding that she didn’t want to leave, she searched for something else to share with him, but ultimately came up empty. The safe was out of the question. The one boundary she felt that she had to keep. She needed some kind of leverage if push came to shove. If the other shoe ever dropped.

“It’s late,” Cassian said. “Do you want a drink?”

She glanced at him, and nodded. “Please.”

He poured them each a glass of mezcal. Jyn sipped hers slowly.

“So, you grew up in Mexico?” she asked.

“Yes,” he replied, and something in his voice told her that he loved his country. “In the capital, though. Buildings and people everywhere. Far from all this desert.”

“Hmm,” Jyn said, dreamily, thinking of her own home. “Where I grew up it was always raining. And green. All green.”

Cassian smiled. “How can you stand this place, then?”

“I can’t,” she said.

He considered her a moment, before saying, “Neither can I.”

***

Cassian was out securing suppliers with Krennic the next day, so they weren’t meeting. Jyn, oddly down in the mouth about it, sat on the couch and worked on cutting stencils for the designs she’d be painting. She’d just finished one when she heard a scurrying noise, and looked around warily.

“Hi,” a small voice said. Jyn whipped her head around to see a small girl with bright red hair and electric blue eyes.

“Hello,” Jyn said slowly. Was this girl—? Could she be—?

“What happened to your shoulder?” the girl asked shyly. She was holding a slice of mango in her hand.

“Someone punched me very hard and dislocated it,” Jyn said simply. The girl’s eyes widened. “I’m Liana.”

“I’m Ramona,” the girl said in the matter-of-fact way of children. Jyn had no clue how old she was. Ten, maybe? She wasn’t good at guessing the age of kids. Ramona sat down next to her on the couch. “Why did they punch you?”

“I threatened someone with a knife.”

“Whoa,” the girl said. Admiration shone in her eyes. “Why?”

Jyn shrugged. “They touched me in a way I didn’t like.”

The girl nodded approvingly. “Daddy always tell me that if someone touches me in a wrong way, I should tell Javier and Javier will kill them.”

“Why does Javier get to kill them and not you?” Jyn asked.

Ramona shrugged. “Maybe when I’m older.” She paused. “Will your arm be messed up forever the way Will’s leg is?” she asked thoughtfully, shoving mango in her mouth gracelessly, but with obvious enjoyment. 

Jyn’s eyebrows rose at this new piece of information. “You know Will?” she asked carefully.

“Not _really_ ,” Ramona said, her mouth full. “I’m not allowed to know anyone but Javier and Ximena and Daddy. But I watch from the stairs sometimes.”

“So you’re like a secret agent?” Jyn said, all conspiracy.

Ramona grinned. “Yeah. I have to be really quiet.”

“Who’s your dad?” Jyn asked, though she suspected she already knew.

“Ramona!” came Ximena’s voice from the doorway. “Ramona, get upstairs, you know you’re not allowed down here!” She was frowning, holding a plate of cookies.

“Aw, Ximena!” Ramona groaned.

“Up, _now_ ,” the housekeeper demanded. “Or no cookies.”

Ramona reluctantly hopped off the couch, giving Jyn a sullen, “Bye.”

“Bye, sweetheart,” Jyn said. Liana had a maternal streak.

Ximena herded Ramona out of the room. “Sorry, Miss Hallik.”

“It’s alright,” Jyn responded, still in shock.

Had she just—? Had she just met Orson Krennic’s _daughter_?

She told Bodhi about the strange encounter later that day.

“Oh my god,” Bodhi said. “Oh my _god_. Are you telling me that someone had a _child_ with Orson fucking Krennic?”

Jyn made a face. “Don’t be gross.”

“I’m sorry—I’m just—I’m _processing_.”

The fact, however, remained: Ramona was Krennic’s daughter. Krennic was Ramona’s father. It presented various, pleasing, revenge scenarios, but Jyn could never quite let herself enjoy them fully. Ramona was, after all, just a kid.

“Do you think the CIA knows about her?” Bodhi asked.

Jyn shrugged. “I don’t think so. I only found out by chance. They’ve definitely been trying to hide her.”

“You have to tell Cassian.”

“I don’t know, Bodhi…” she said. “I know my dad said to trust him, but—I don’t know.”

“I thought you were getting on now?”

“We are, kind of,” Jyn said hesitantly. “He’s…hard to read.”

Bodhi frowned. “Do you think he’s hiding things from you?”

“No, actually,” Jyn said, puzzled. “He’s been oddly forthcoming.”

“Then what’s the problem?” Bodhi asked. “The more you help him do his job, the quicker we get _out of here_ and find your dad.”

Jyn blinked. Even with Chirrut’s advice, she hadn’t thought of it that way. She’d been thinking of it as a zero-sum game, where any ground she gave to Cassian would automatically be lost to her. She’d been so stuck in conceiving of her and Cassian’s relationship as a piecemeal, quid pro quo exchange of information that she’d all but forgotten that they were on the same side. Anything that helped him, helped her.

“You’re right,” she said, nodding. “You’re right, Bodhi. I should tell him.”

A few hours later, Jyn was loitering outside Cassian’s room, trying to get up the nerve to knock. It felt—invasive somehow. Like she was crossing a line by showing up at his door like this.

She was being stupid. _Just fucking knock_ , she thought. Holding her breath, she raised her knuckles to the door and rapped on it twice.

When he opened the door, she had to work hard to hide her shock. He was shirtless, in a pair of blue joggers, hair an absolute mess. _Oh my_ _god_ —

Wide-eyed, clearly shocked himself, he stuttered out, “Jy—.” He blinked. “Are you okay, Liana? I—I’m sorry, I thought you were Melshi.” He turned around, grabbing a t-shirt from a stack on his dresser and hastily shoving it over his head.

Jyn was caught, stock-still, outside the door, her heart beating at a breakneck gallop. Cassian was by no means a large man, but she couldn’t help but run her eyes over the muscled sinews of his shoulders and arms. There was something about the way he held himself, scrappy and sure, that made her shiver.

He returned to the door, fully clothed, and she was thankful, for the sight of him that way had been…too much, somehow.

“Come in, come in,” he said, waving her inside and shutting the door. She’d caught him off guard, and he was having trouble recovering. “What’s going on? Are you okay?” he asked.

“Everything’s fine, Will,” she said, trying to put him at ease.

“You can talk, it’s okay,” he assured her. “The door just has to be shut.”

He swallowed, and she could tell that he wasn’t too comfortable having her in his space. She grinned. It was nice having him on the back foot. She looked around ostentatiously and sat down on his neatly-made bed. He was watching her, wide-eyed.

Crossing her legs, she said, “Are you _blushing_?”

His face immediately dropped into a scowl. “What do you want?”

“You have nothing to be ashamed of,” she drawled, leaning back.

Sighing, hands on his hips, he said, “You can stop being Liana, it’s just the two of us.”

 _It’s just the two of us_. The phrase stopped Jyn dead in her tracks. It almost made her laugh, the way he assumed Jyn’s elaborate artifice of defense mechanisms was for some third party. _It’s just the two of us_. Like he wasn’t a threat to her, in some way, shape, or form. Like she wasn’t a threat to _him_.

“ _Fine_ ,” she pouted. She relented, and told him what she’d found out that day.

“ _No mames_ ,” he breathed, hand over his mouth, sitting down next to her. He seemed genuinely shocked. “He’s been hiding a child? And you’ve met her?” He paused, and looked at her. “This is excellent work, Jyn. Really excellent.”

His praise settled over her like a warm blanket. She blinked, trying to force the feeling away. “Thanks,” she said, stilted. She sat up abruptly and Cassian watched her with surprise. “I should—I should get back.”

“Thank you,” he said, “for letting me know.” He paused. “How’s your arm, by the way?”

“Better,” Jyn said. She thought of Ramona’s remark about his leg, and spared a moment to wonder what exactly had happened to him. “Doctor said I should have the cast off in a week. You did a good job.”

A strange expression flashed across his face. “I could have hurt you,” he said, brow furrowed, eyes on his bedspread. “By accident. I could have made it worse.”

Jyn frowned, confused. “Yeah, I guess.”

“I just mean—What I’m asking you is—” He paused, trying to find the words. “Why did you trust me? Why did you tell me who you really were?” he settled on, his eyes lit up like lamps.

“You guessed,” she said, still not understanding.

“No, I mean—you took your wig off, and your contacts, that day in the desert, even though I was pointing a gun at you…”

“I…don’t know,” she said slowly. “I needed someone, I guess. And you showed up.”

He looked at her, seeming genuinely concerned. “That’s all?”

She frowned. “No,” she replied, haltingly. “You helped Liana, that first night, I guess. And—the way that Estevez—he _thanked_ you. I can’t explain it, really, but I felt like you were someone that could be trusted.” She paused. “Or, trusted _enough_ , at least.”

Cassian nodded, looking pensive. There was something quietly compelling about him in the dim light of his own space. It made her want to say things, to share things, that she knew she should be keeping close. Suddenly, she felt an urge to get out, to just get the fuck _out_. Any longer, any longer and she would—

“Well.” She stood up, swallowing thickly. “Night, then.”

He looked at her, surprised. He hadn’t been paying attention to her, too lost in his own thoughts. “Good night, Jyn,” he replied.

She nodded, and quickly left, unsure why she felt like she’d narrowly dodged a bullet only to find herself plummeting off the edge of cliff. It had been the sight of him in front of her: too intimate, too heart-wrenchingly open, when he was usually tucked away in his black button-downs. It had almost hurt to look at him. Any longer would have tempted her to crack herself open so he could survey her with his dark eyes.

***

The perfect opportunity to open the safe finally came: Ramona was sick. Ever since Jyn had learned of the girl’s existence, Ximena had bothered less and less to keep information about her from Jyn. Liana had a very trustworthy look to her, she supposed. One day, Ximena was bustling around more than usual, and Jyn had inquired if everything was okay. Jyn herself was rather busy, hand-painting designs that she’d later print off on holographic paper. It was finnicky, tricky work, and she had to take a lot of breaks to rest her eyes. Jyn had ducked her head into the kitchen for some tea, and that’s when she saw Ximena, looking harried as she stirred chicken and rice soup.

“Ramona is sick,” Ximena confided. “And, just like her father, she’s a terrible patient.” She stirred the soup with a bit more force than was strictly necessary.

When she bustled out with a tray, Jyn slunk away quietly to retrieve her lock-breaking supplies.

Walking to Krennic’s office, she considered anew whether she’d been justified in keeping this from Cassian. Whether she could defend her decision in any logical fashion. He was away with Krennic again, trying to source suppliers in South America. They’d taken the private plane. They’d gotten closer, certainly, she and Cassian, and she very much _wanted_ to trust him. It would make this labyrinth of a situation much easier for her. But all the wanting in the world wouldn’t make Cassian Andor trustworthy. He was a fucking impenetrable fortress, completely shut tight against her. Except, of course, when he was cross with her, or when she had the element of surprise. She could only make her way through his defenses with sheer brute force. And that just wasn’t enough to build a partnership on. She wouldn’t tell him about this—couldn’t. At least not yet. At least not until she could be surer of him. It was her last piece of leverage. Her emergency parachute.

The door code was easy, though it had been changed since the night of the break-in. Listening carefully for Ximena, she shut the door and went over to the safe, kneeling down next to it. It was a Haymarket, bolted to the floor. Jyn smiled to herself. Haymarkets were for suckers. This would be easy.

Haymarkets were among the most advanced safes, but, in trying to safeguard against cutting-edge techniques like autodialers, scoping, and thermic lances, they neglected to safeguard against the old-school ones. And Saw just happened to be a big proponent of those. It would take time, and patience, but she would eventually get there.

She felt more than heard the first click: a little hitch in the rhythm, a little bit of resistance to the dial. So began the slow and laborious process of manipulating the locks, listening carefully with an electronic amp. Save for a few tense moments when she thought she heard someone lingering outside the door, it was almost boring. She liked the slow, deliberate, methodic process; it somehow soothed her frayed nerves. Much easier, in her opinion, and far more discreet than other manual methods that used brute force.

It was nearly an hour later when she began trying combinations. On her third try, the latch clicked open, and Jyn grinned to herself. Inside the safe there was a large stack of documents weighted down by three bars of solid gold. Jyn, mindful of Ximena puttering around outside, ignored the pull of the gold and dove into the documents below. They were organized in file folders, stuffed to the brim. She carefully pulled one labeled “DEATHSTAR” out, and gasped when she saw what was inside. Quickly, she took pictures and returned everything to its place.

Retreating to her room, she sent Bodhi a message that she needed to see him urgently. He replied a few minutes later with a cryptic, ‘ _Me 2_.’

A few long hours of waiting later, Bodhi pounded on her door urgently, back at last from the lab. “ _Christ_ ,” he said, crashing into her room as she opened the door. He shut it soundly, and locked it. “You are never going to believe what I found out—”

“Bodhi,” she interrupted. He ignored her. “Bodhi!”

“What?” he groaned, annoyed, clearly excited to share his news.

She pursed her lips, unsure how to say this. Her own mind was still having trouble processing it, and she’d seen the documents first-hand.

“It’s ICE, Bodhi,” she said lowly.

“What’s ice?” he frowned.

“No, not ice. _ICE,_ the immigration police! From America!” she hissed. “They’re the buyers!”

He froze. “What do you—what do you mean?” he asked slowly. Jyn knew exactly what was going through his head, because she’d been thinking the exact same thing. She just couldn’t—she couldn’t wrap her mind around it. It was beyond cruel, horrifying even for the admittedly inhumane standards the US had. To treat anyone like this, but particularly those desperate enough to try and flee their own country—it was morally repugnant. 

“They want to use it to defend the border,” she said in a rush. “I saw a document. I took pictures.”

“They’re—they’re planning on gassing people crossing the border?”

“They’re using it as a deterrent, at the very least.”

“Jesus Christ,” Bodhi exhaled. He put his hand over his mouth, thinking. Suddenly turning and heading out the door, he said, “We need to tell Cassian—”

Jyn stopped him with a hand on his shoulder. “No,” she said. “No.” Bodhi stood wide-eyed, waiting for an explanation. “He’s _CIA_. _He could already know_.”

“Don’t be ridiculous!” Bodhi objected. “Why would he want the formula, then?”

Jyn had to concede that it wouldn’t make much sense. Besides, she’d seen American agencies fail to communicate time and time again while she’d worked for Saw; he’d played them against each other quite successfully as a result. It was very possible that ICE was trying to buy something that the CIA was trying to dismantle.

“Alright, _fine_ ,” Jyn said, “but have you considered that, if we tell him, he might not _care_?”

“Are you mad? _He’s_ Mexican, I doubt he wants his own people to be gassed!” Bodhi cried.

“Keep your voice down,” Jyn hissed. “He killed Estevez. Who knows what else he’s capable of, in America’s fucking name?”

“You really think he’s doing this for _America_?”

“I don’t _know_ ,” Jyn said. “I don’t know why he does the things he does. And that’s not good enough for me at the moment.”

“Right,” Bodhi said, rubbing at his jaw with an air of mania. “Right. Right. Okay. Okay, fine. Er.” He shifted his hands to his hips and took a moment to gather himself. He sat down on Jyn’s bed. “Er. I made some discoveries myself these past few days.”

Jyn nodded expectantly.

“I saw the testing chamber and everything.” He was staring straight ahead, voice brittle and tight. “It’s horrifying, Jyn, it’s fucking mad. I—I can’t believe this—” he cut himself off.

“Anything about my father?” she asked quietly.

Bodhi looked up, as if surprised she were there. “Yes, yeah,” he said, blinking, “There’s some sort of master console that controls the Death Star and it also contains all of your father’s research and plans. It’s right next to the chamber. Only Krennic can access it, apparently, since Galen left.”

Jyn exhaled. “Okay. We’ll have to find some way in.”

“Jyn, this is—this bigger than just your father, now,” Bodhi said quietly.

“I know,” she said. “I know.”

They were in _so_ far over their heads, farther than she’d ever wanted to be. She felt, in that moment, a very keen regret that she hadn’t said to Bodhi, when he’d first approached her in the dojo, that she’d never heard of Galen Erso, and that she certainly wasn’t someone called Jyn Erso.

***

“Would you mind driving?” Cassian asked. “We can wait for Melshi to get back, but—”

They were going to Calexico, to El Paradiso. They’d meet up with Esso at the hotel in San Luis again, stay the night, and meet Los Chavas at their base nearby. The next night, they’d stage a coup at El Paradiso, hopefully securing it as a distribution hub with their new partners. 

Cassian had been odd ever since she’d been in his room a few nights earlier, his demeanor as cold and reserved as it had been when he was Will, but with a brittle edge to it. This detached professionalism felt like something Jyn was chafing under, some restraint she could not help but buck up against. She felt a near uncontrollable urge to snarl and snap whenever she was with him.

If she’d thought that being slowly drawn in by him was bad, being pushed away was somehow even worse. His open expression was gone, and they seemed back to where they started. Jyn found herself missing that openness, and wondering how she might get to see it again.

“No worries,” Jyn said. Her arm was out of the sling, and, thanks to judicious use of icepacks and painkillers, it was feeling almost normal besides the occasional twinge.

She watched Cassian closely. What little she could see of his face as he fiddled with his gun holster was shuttered. His behavior seemed to vindicate her decision not to tell him about what she’d found in the safe, so she wasn’t sure why exactly she found it so disturbing.

“Is it your leg?” she asked casually, getting into the car as he did the same.

“Yes,” he replied curtly. He put his seatbelt on with rather more care than was necessary, turning to the window. “It’s been sore lately.”

“What exactly happened to it?” she asked, pulling out of the drive. Ramona’s comment, in particular, had sparked a curiosity she was having trouble quelling.

She saw him glance at her out of the corner of her eye before he continued to look out at the flat desert scenery.

“It’s a long story,” he said flatly, clearly unwilling to talk about it. He turned his whole body away from Jyn in an almost comical defensive maneuver.

She blinked. Was it so much to ask, really? Cassian had full access to her CIA file, all her history spelt out neatly in black and white, and was always spouting his bullshit about having to _trust_ each other, and _we’re in this together_ , but he couldn’t answer a simple fucking question. God forbid. How was she supposed to trust him when he made no effort? Was she just supposed to give everything over to him without getting an iota of reciprocity? She felt justified in her decision all over again. She had to keep some bargaining chips to herself if she had any hope of making out of this intact.

They sat in tense silence for nearly a half an hour, Jyn sulkily following the chirpy instructions of the GPS. She tried to lift the mood by saying, cheerily, “Men can grope me all they want during this op, I promise I won’t pull a knife on any of them.”

Cassian turned to her with a queer expression. “Is that really what you think I expect of you?” he asked.

Jyn’s mood soured once again. “I don’t _know,_ but that’s what you seemed to want last time,” she replied. She was dreading where this was headed, but couldn’t seem to stop herself.

He stared at her. “I know you don’t particularly like or trust me, but when have I ever given you the impression I wouldn’t keep you safe?” he asked icily.

She snorted. “Oh, I don’t know, maybe it was when someone shoved a hand up—”

“I was handling it,” Cassian gritted out. “Are you going to fight me every step of this operation, too?”

“Oh, I wouldn’t dare,” Jyn replied venomously. “The last person who got in your way wound up dead.”

He barked out a strange, derisive laugh. “You _fucking_ gringos,” he muttered, chuckling darkly to himself. “You’re all the same. Your father builds a machine for _gassing people_ , and that’s fine, he’s still your hero, but I kill _one man_ trying to stop him, and I’m a monster.” He paused, shaking his head. “You think I _liked_ killing Estevez? You think I enjoyed having to make that call? _Pinches gringos_ , you come down here and make a mess and then call us rapists and murderers when we try to claw our way out. You’re all the fucking same.”

The vitriol in his words hit her with a physical force. Something jagged and ruthless in her wanted to turn it back on him, to sharpen it to a point and watch it impale him, too. Anything so she didn’t have to acknowledge the torrent of pain he’d poured out to her, which shone a glaring light onto her own selfishness and spitefulness, which would skirt far too close to something approaching intimacy. This had been what she’d wanted, for him to open up to her, but the truth was this: for every yard of ground she gained, she had to scorch acres more.

“Finally,” Jyn replied, something like delight, but crueler, coloring her voice, “finally, something from you besides _reserved professionalism_.”

He turned to face her, eyes hot.

“You provoke me on purpose—?” he began to ask.

“It would have been a more powerful speech, Agent Andor, if you weren’t working with the _fucking gringos_ you say you hate so much,” she said.

“It’s not perfect, but it’s better than sitting by doing nothing,” he returned, with a pointed look. “Better than just _watching it happen_.”

Jyn realized her hands were shaking. She white-knuckled the steering wheel in an attempt to make it stop, because she couldn’t let him see. She could never let him see how accurately she’d been hit. Was it the pain itself that left her so breathless and bewildered, or the way he seemed to know precisely where to aim?

“I don’t know, is it?” Jyn asked with faux innocence. “That might be true if it weren’t the US government that was _buying_ the Death Star.”

His head whipped around to face her in shock. “ _¿Qué—?_ ” Then, his eyes narrowed. “You’re lying,” he said, settling back into his seat.

“If only,” she said dramatically. “Check Bodhi’s laptop if you like. It’s in my bag.”

His eyes flicked over to her a moment, and she could see his mind working: measuring her, calculating motives, running scenarios.

Ultimately, he reached into the back seat, and pulled out the laptop, muttering, “That’s impossible.”

“It makes sense, and you know it,” Jyn said, eyes carefully on the road. “Who else would Krennic be afraid of? Who else would he be so concerned about disappointing?”

He swallowed heavily, and double-clicked.

Jyn, out of her peripheral vision, saw his face drop.

“No,” he said quietly. “Where did you—where did you find this?”

She glanced over, brow furrowed. He looked at her, his expression oddly bewildered. She hadn’t expected—sadness. She’d wanted _anger_. He had weaved where she thought he would punch back. He continually defied every expectation she had, as if he were reading from a different playbook than she. She had not anticipated this at all.

“Krennic’s safe. In his office,” she said quietly.

“Maybe it’s—” he began hopefully, “Maybe they just wanted to get it out of dangerous hands—” He was reaching, and he knew it.

“No,” answered Jyn, her voice oddly gentle even to her own ears, “No, Cassian. It’s ICE. They just—they want to harm people crossing the border.”

Cassian looked down at that, jaw set, blinking rapidly. He put the laptop back in the bag and sat for a moment, body stiff and shocked.

“Pull over,” he said lowly, like it had been punched out of him.

Jyn frowned, confused. “You wa—”

“ _Pull over, Jyn_.”

She did, and she watched with wide eyes as Cassian shoved the door open as if the car were on fire, and stumble out onto the desert sand. He stood there for a minute, blinking out into the wasteland before him, looking utterly lost.

Jyn slowly got out of the car to stand beside him, regretting her actions so keenly she felt a little sick. She wished more than anything that she could take the last five minutes back. Anything to take that awful, bereft expression from his face.

“No, no, no, no,” he was saying, shaking his head.

“Cassian,” she said hesitantly, going to reach out a hand but thinking the better of it. “I’m sorry, Cassian. I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have—”

He turned to her, eyes unfocused. “No, no, you had to tell me, you had to tell me sometime.”

“I could’ve been kinder about it,” she said, unsure how to show how sorry she was. She hadn’t meant for this. All of her good intentions seemed to melt away in the face of Cassian Andor.

“No, you—” he said, “you got what you wanted, didn’t you?” His voice was tight, and pained. “Make me out to be the bad guy, make everything I do seem futile, so you can feel justified in your apathy.”

“I—” she began, but found she couldn’t defend herself. He was right.

“Not only that,” he continued, rubbing at his jaw, “not only that, but you go behind my back—and you open Krennic’s safe—”

“You don’t understand,” she tried, desperate to explain herself. “You don’t understand—it’s all I have. It’s all I have left.”

She hardly even knew what she was saying. She felt unable to form her thoughts into words and afraid that if she did, he still wouldn’t understand. How could he, when she barely understood them herself?

He looked at her, then, like he was recognizing her for the first time. His eyes darted over her face, and she could feel him trying to puzzle her out. Maybe she wasn’t so transparent as she had thought. Maybe he was as in the dark as she was. Two people, groping around blindly, trying to get their arms around each other.

“And you think provoking me will—help you protect yourself?” he asked searchingly.

“I don’t know how else to relate to you,” she confessed quietly. “I’m _angry_.”

It was strange, admitting to that. She could hardly admit it to herself most days, how fucking angry it all made her. She’d shut those parts of herself down, in prison, and had never quite gotten around to them since her release. But now, once deadened and numb, they were waking up, somehow un-atrophied after all this time.

He crowded her against the car, so close they were breathing the same air, but never touching her—never, ever touching her. She glanced up at him, utterly in his thrall.

“I am not your enemy, here, Jyn,” he said fiercely. “It’s not me you’re angry at.”

“I know. I know you’re not,” she whispered. She looked down at her hands. “I’m sorry. Let me,” she stumbled, “Let me help you, I’ll help you in any way I can.”

He looked at her a moment, eyes hard, and nodded once. He got back into the car, leaving Jyn shaking at the loss of his nearness. She blinked once, hard, and angrily shoved at her eyes as she walked around the car to the driver’s side.

***

Jyn clasped the kyber crystal that hung from her neck. She was in the bar next to the hotel, drinking piss-poor beer and trying not to mope. Cassian had hardly said a word to her when they’d arrived, and disappeared into his and Melshi’s room. She didn’t really know where they stood.

She took a sip of her beer, wincing as she remembered the bewildered look on Cassian’s face as he’d read the document on Bodhi’s laptop. Why had she done that? What had she been thinking? Even she wasn’t fully certain.

Maybe it was how she resented the way he seemed to see through her so effortlessly, the way he’d laser-targeted insecurities she could hardly even acknowledge to herself, while he remained an utter mystery to her. She’d hoped that their conversation would illuminate him a bit, and it had, but at what cost? He had been so hurt, so betrayed. But the only way she seemed to be able to get him to drop his guard for even a moment was by such sheer brutal hacking

Cassian’s words, his eyes dark and pained, had hit her underbelly with terrifying accuracy. He just didn’t understand that apathy was the only weapon she had that couldn’t be turned against her in the end. She had to keep everything tucked safely away, or else there would be nothing to come back to when it was all over. And for every chunk of flesh Cassian tore from her, she had to repay him twofold, if only to prove something to herself. She was safe. Nothing could hurt her where she was hiding.

 _I am not your enemy, here_.

They were on the same side. Even Chirrut had said it: _He has the face of a friend_. Why did she have to keep reminding herself of that? Jyn had been right; there was something wrong with her. Something missing, or broken. She was too afraid: afraid of how life seemed to be opening up in front of her, and unable to trust that the ground beneath her feet wouldn’t turn out be quicksand in the end.

“Alright, Jyn?” a voice said. It was Melshi, sitting down next to her. He ordered two shots of tequila in Spanish.

“Has it been that hard, being away from me?” Jyn asked, an empty bit of flirtation that rose in her throat like acid.

“Och, aye,” Melshi said, grinning. His face turned serious as the bartender poured the shots in front of them. He asked for the bottle. “I heard you and the boss had a fight.”

She looked down at her hands and nodded.

“In that case,” he said, sliding her one of the glasses.

With a smile that was more of a grimace, she ran her finger around the rim. “He doesn’t trust me,” she said lowly.

“Mm,” he replied, drinking his glass down.

Jyn laughed, despite herself. “You’re supposed to sip it. It’s not spring break.”

“Don’t deflect, now, young Jyn,” he said. He paused as she grimaced. “Cassian’s a good bloke, really, he’s just been burnt a few too many times.”

“He has all the power in this arrangement,” Jyn protested, “so why should he be so wary of trusting me?”

Melshi sighed. “I’m gonna tell you something, but you have to promise me that you tell _no one_ , right?”

Jyn nodded warily.

He leaned in conspiratorially. “Cassian’s leg, eh? _Kneecapped_.”

Her eyes went huge. “Christ,” she muttered. She’d only heard rumors about kneecapping, horror stories from veterans of the Troubles that had worked for Saw, but from what she understood, you could lose your leg from it.

Melshi nodded knowingly. “Aye,” he said. “He was working some shite UC assignment for Uncle Sam in, er, Bolivia, I think it was? An informant grassed him up and the gang he was embedded in dragged him off to some warehouse. They threatened him, but he wouldn’t say a word. So they shot him and left him there to bleed out.”

“Jesus,” she breathed. 

“Worst part is, the CIA blamed _him_ , but you can’t exactly fire a bloke who’s just got his knee scrambled, so they’ve saddled him with this nightmare of an operation, just waiting for him to slip up. Punishing him.”

Something crystallized for her, then.

“And I’m part of that punishment, am I?”

Melshi nodded.

“Fuck.”

Jyn felt something in her stutter and deflate, and she wasn’t sure why. She was still on board with the mission, with finding and destroying the Death Star, but, now, she knew that she would never have Cassian’s trust. It had been doomed from the start. Chirrut had told her not to wonder about another lifetime, but she couldn’t help it. If things had been slightly different, in a kinder world, maybe, they would’ve—

It didn’t matter.

She poured out some more tequila. In a kinder world—in a kinder world—she’d said some variation of that to herself a thousand times. In a kinder world, she would have been her father’s little Stardust. In a kinder world, her mother would have watched her grow into a woman. In a kinder world—In a kinder world—what the fuck good did it do to think of all those other possibilities, when they weren’t hers? No matter how many different identities or wigs or colored contacts she put on, at the end of the day, she was still Jyn. _There I am,_ she thought bitterly, _there I am_. Jyn Erso. Messed up and lonely. Empty and afraid of being otherwise. Lashing out at anyone who tried to look a little closer.

Tears rose hot in her eyes, and she thought to herself: _Enough. Enough. Stop it. Just make it all stop._ She didn’t want to be Jyn anymore. She wanted to be someone different. Just for the night, she wanted to pretend that she really was Liana Hallik, freelance forger with no baggage and an easy grin. She wanted, she thought, with a glance over at Melshi, to be someone who could _connect_ with someone else, if only for the night.

***

“The walls are paper fucking thin,” Jyn objected, giggling, as Melshi kissed along her neck and collarbone. They were in her hotel room. Her bra was already off and they’d only been at it a few minutes. She wondered if her wig would survive the encounter. Perhaps she ought to have put some more pins in.

“Cassian’s out,” he said gleefully, pressing her up against the door, “I checked.”

“So smart,” she said, kissing him on the mouth, feeling the tequila muddling her thoughts into molasses. “Fucking brilliant.”

“Make all the noise you want,” he grinned, “as if you could have helped it.”

She laughed into the kiss, letting Melshi take over for the moment. She was Liana tonight, and Liana went with the flow. He palmed her tits with gun-calloused hands. It felt good, and his mouth tasted like tequila. Why not?

See, she thought to herself, things could be simple. Things could be easy. Not everything had to slip into a neurotic labyrinth of trauma and suspicion.

Melshi’s mouth moved to her tits and she ran her hands through his hair encouragingly. Her heart, protesting weakly against the fragile bones of her rib cage, wasn’t really in it, but what did it have to do with sex? She closed her eyes. It wasn’t that she didn’t like Melshi. He was good—talented, even—swirling his tongue, hot and eager, around one nipple.

“Yeah,” she said softly. It was better with her eyes closed. She tugged on his hair gently, sort of wanting to get it over with. “What do you want?” she asked, kissing him. “I want to give you what you want.”

“D’you think you could—could you suck me off—it’s just that—that fucking lip gloss is driving me mad,” he gasped out.

Jyn smirked. “Yeah?” she asked teasingly.

“Christ, yes.”

They moved towards the bed, and Jyn took off Melshi’s trousers with a wink and a flirty grin. Men were so easy. She could twist them and turn them however she wanted.

Except Cassian. He was the only one who she couldn’t seem to manipulate.

She sucked Melshi off like she was performing for a camera, eyes wide and innocent, all wet and messy, lots of spit. It felt a bit mechanical, but Melshi seemed to be enjoying himself. He was moaning lowly, cursing. It was nice.

At first, she’d ignored the noise.

When she heard it again, she pulled off Melshi’s cock and pumped it with her hand so she could listen better. There was somebody moving around in his and Cassian’s room next door.

Cassian was back.

Her heart jump-started to a frantic tattoo, as if she’d just been shocked with an AED. _He would hear them._ The thought made something kindle to a spark low in her stomach, and she swallowed thickly. Redoubling her efforts, she returned to Melshi’s cock and fondled softly at his balls.

“Jyn, yes, fuck,” he moaned, and she thought, _Cassian will hear that_. Cassian will hear that and he’ll _know_ —her cunt clenched tightly and she began to rub herself against the bed. She imagined him, _listening_ , and bobbed her head so she could take Melshi’s cock deeper in her throat. He thrusted up with a low, desperate groan.

Jyn got so lost in her thoughts of Cassian that she nearly startled at the feeling of Melshi’s hand gentle on her head. He entwined his fingers into her wig.

“Jyn,” he said, “Jyn, I’m gonna come—”

She just whined and continued, the idea of Cassian just on the other side of the wall setting her body alight. Was he, she thought deliriously, was he touching himself? No, no, he was far too strait-laced for that—but he’d want to. She felt herself getting wet at the thought. He’d be hard in his trousers, fighting not to give in to temptation—

Melshi came in her mouth then, with a pained grunt, and she moaned loudly at the sensation, not even having to fake it.

“Fuck,” he said, “Fuck.”

He sat and up and immediately began kissing her with such gratitude that Jyn actually felt a little bad. They hadn’t made any promises, she reminded herself.

“Lemme—lemme get you off,” he asked breathlessly.

Jyn smiled, again feeling a little guilty. He really was a nice man. He began kissing down her body softly, stopping to mouth at her tits. One of his fingers, blunt and wonderful, worked inside of her.

“Hah,” she cried out. “Yeah, yeah.”

And then—Cassian began to _speak_ , and Jyn could hear his words alarmingly clearly. He was talking in Spanish on, Jyn guessed, the phone. Melshi looked up, panicked. He clearly hadn’t heard him come in.

“Fuck,” he said.

“Who is he talking to at this hour?” she asked, thinking, irrationally, _How fucking typical of Cassian_.

“You want me to stop?” Melshi asked.

“No, no, please,” she said.

He picked up where he left off.

Cassian’s voice, rough and warm, reached her at a low volume, weirdly intimate even as they were separated by a wall. God, his—his _voice_ —rolling and dipping beautifully along his native language, like he was right there in her ear. She could practically feel his breath hot on her neck.

“Fuck,” she bit out, as Melshi rolled a nipple between two finers and scissored another finger into her cunt. She began to thrust up into his hand, imagining Cassian was in the room, watching them with hot eyes, speaking lowly, his voice wrecked and hoarse and desperate. “Oh, oh, fuck—”

She came with a strangled, wordless cry, feeling weirdly empty.

When it was over, and she and Melshi lay side by side, panting, Cassian was still speaking, low and intense. She felt, obscurely, as if she’d broken some promise to him.

***

Jyn took a long, hot shower after Melshi left the next morning. Her contacts had still been in when she’d woken up, so her eyes were itchy and sore, and her wig had still been pinned to her head. She and Melshi seemed to have come to tacitly agree that it had been lovely, but it was definitely a one-time thing. She was glad she didn’t have to say it.

Sitting down under the hot spray, she wanted to cry, but didn’t let herself.

It didn’t matter. She’d work things out with Cassian. She’d fix everything, and they’d stop Krennic, and she’d find her father, and it would all work out. She just had to keep on going. She just had to keep on living through this. Her life had been fine before all this, before _him_ , and it would be fine afterward.

She let her hair air-dry as she drank coffee in the quiet of her room. The news was on, ostensibly so she could improve her Spanish skills, but mainly for some background noise. She was hardly listening, instead staring blankly at the grotesquely patterned carpet. The robe in the closet was surprisingly plush and comfy.

A knock on the door shocked her out of her trance. She re-adjusted her robe, making sure to cover herself up, and peered through the peephole.

It was Cassian.

She opened the door, glanced at him, and walked back to where she’d been sitting, wet brown hair dripping onto the carpet. The invitation, she hoped, would be clear.

He followed her wordlessly, shutting the door behind him. Jyn took her mug from off the weird little hotel desk. She felt very small.

“Coffee?” she offered quietly, looking up at him from where she sat.

He shook his head. “No, thanks,” he said. “I wanted to talk to you.”

His eyes travelled curiously over her.

Unsure what that look meant, she asked, “What?”

A small smile on his face, he said, “I’m not used to seeing you with your real hair and eyes, that’s all.”

Jyn tried to smile wryly, but it fell flat. “Tell me, do gentlemen _really_ prefer blondes?”

“Jyn,” Cassian chided gently. _It’s just the two of us._ She dropped her joyless grin and made a listening face. “I spoke to Melshi.”

She tried not to let the sheer _panic_ she felt show on her face, and sipped calmly from her coffee mug. What business of it was his what she did with her evenings?

“He told me that you feel I don’t trust you?” he said.

Her eyes widened, and she lowered her mug slowly, shocked that Melshi would have shared that with Cassian.

“I—” she began, unsure how to respond.

He shifted uncomfortably. “About my leg,” he said, “it’s—”

“You don’t—” she interrupted, “You don’t owe me an explanation. I was being nosy—”

“No, please—” he said. They were talking over each other, so busy trying to figure each other out that they forgot to listen. Jyn shut her mouth, and smiled sheepishly. Cassian began to speak again. “You were right. I have your life, and your father’s life, in my hands. You deserve to know who I am.” He paused, and smiled ruefully. “It’s not that I don’t trust you, Jyn,” he finally managed. “It’s that there are some things that I don’t like to _think_ about, let alone talk about. My leg is—one of them.”

Jyn watched him carefully. He seemed agitated, trying to prove something.

“I was undercover when it happened. My source turned on me, and the men I was working with brought me to a warehouse,” he explained, speaking in clipped, pained sentences. His face, though, was completely blank, as though he were talking about the weather. Like he’d distanced himself so thoroughly from that night it wasn’t even him in that warehouse anymore. “They—I don’t know how to say this in English—” he stopped, frowning, “they put a gun here,” he said, touching the back of his good knee, “and fired.” He looked up at her, eyes almost challenging.

“Kneecapping,” Jyn told him quietly. She had a feeling that knowing the English word, a catch-all term, would be easier for him next time. She wondered if he preferred to speak in English when talking about these things. Less intimate than one’s own native language. “I’m sorry,” she said, voice hardly carrying at all, “That’s—that’s so _cruel_ , Cassian.”

“I trusted the wrong person,” he said, as if to explain himself.

“Still,” she murmured. “Still.”

She tried to wrap her hands around her mug for warmth, or comfort, or something, but her coffee had gone cold

“I’m sorry I told you that way,” Jyn said. “It was—cruel of me.”

“Not cruel,” Cassian objected kindly, shaking his head. “Not cruel.”

“Still,” she repeated. She looked up, and his eyes caught hers.

“We’re still learning to trust each other,” he said.

His words made something in her shimmer and part, revealing a place she hadn’t known was there. She thought about what Chirrut had said when they’d first met. Kyber, leading her down her path. She wasn’t sure if she believed in all that bullshit, but something about this moment felt crystalline in its clarity and brilliance. Maybe it was possible. Maybe, by some incredible miracle of cosmic fate, she was being led to a place of beauty. Her sad, miserable path, suddenly merging dramatically into something different. Something better. Maybe there could—there could be some sort of redemption. Maybe a life could move from the shadows into the sun.

She nearly snorted at herself. That sounded like something Chirrut might have said. The thought made her smile. Perhaps it was all a matter of having faith. It wasn’t—it wasn’t destiny, or any bullshit like that, but maybe there some kind of kismet at work beyond the edges of her vision. She just had to have faith. She had to at least _try_.

***

The red cursive sign over the club entrance flickered moodily as Jyn approached. She and Cassian were entering undercover as club-goers, so they’d be in place inside when Melshi and Los Chavas entered with guns blazing.

Cassian was waiting for her outside the doors, smoking a cigarette. For once, he was wearing something different than his usual black or dark blue button-down, trading it out for a patterned light blue silk shirt and a winking gold medallion. His hair was gelled back carefully, his shirt opened to reveal a sliver of skin. He was dressed how the Pico brothers were when she’d first met them.

He was staring at her, wordlessly taking his cigarette from his mouth and dropping it, crushing it under his shoe. Jyn grinned at the slightly hangdog expression on his face. She looked good— _Liana_ looked good—and she knew it. She was wearing a skin-tight, glittery silver minidress, rouched to one side to show off her waist. Her legs looked miles long, helped out by chunky peach heels.

“How do I look?” she asked. She was reminded of earlier that day, when she’d stood in front of him in nothing but a robe.

Cassian blinked. “Very nice.” He paused, and amended: “Very _Liana_.”

“You’re looking sharp, yourself.” She was tentative, trying to get back into his good graces.

He grimaced, fingering the collar of the shirt. “Not exactly my style,” he said sheepishly, “but definitely Will’s.”

“I know the feeling,” she said, smoothing a hand down the sparkly material of her dress.

Cassian huffed out a laugh. “We should try to blend in a bit at the beginning—dance, drink a little.”

“ _You’re_ going to dance?”

He smiled. “ _You_ dance, I’ll get the drinks,” he amended. He seemed to be in a good mood.

She nodded, and they entered.

It was smoky and packed inside, something bass-heavy and hypnotic thumping through the speakers. The crowd moved in ceaseless, cycling waves, and Jyn could feel the heat of the dancers though she was yards away.

“Keep your eyes on me,” Cassian said, leaning closer and murmuring into her ear so she could hear him over the music. She shivered, and nodded. “I’ll signal to you when I’ve found the manager’s office.”

With that, she walked towards the dancefloor confidently. The heat was unbelievable, and she was suddenly very thankful she’d worn so little. Some friendly girls dancing in a clump allowed her to join their group and she smiled winningly at them. The music was so loud that she could practically feel the bass vibrating in her chest. It was easy to get lost in it, and she had to remind herself to periodically check where Cassian was: right now, he was leaning back on the bar, waiting for drinks. He’d lit a cigarette, and was watching her with apparent disinterest through the haze of smoke.

His eyes, though, even across the crowded dance floor, hit her like an electric shock. She remembered vividly her fantasy the other night, while he spoke as if to her through the thin hotel-room wall. She’d imagined him watching her, _seeing_ her, eyes travelling over her as if through the viewfinder of a rifle. Her skin sparked and sizzled under his gaze. A bead of sweat made its way down her spine and she shivered. 

It was then that Jyn noticed a bouncer staring at Cassian, as if he’d seen him before. She stopped dancing as her stomach dropped to the floor. _Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck._ He must have been recognized.

Cassian had noticed her go stock-still, and was looking at her with sharp eyes. Thinking quickly, she jerked her head towards the ladies’ room, and made her way there leisurely, weaving through the crowd. He did the same. Jyn noticed with worry that two men were cutting through the dancefloor with stern looks on their faces. Cassian was able, however, to slip into the ladies’ room seemingly unnoticed. He was able to blend into a crowd easily, even with his limp.

She joined him shortly after, noting with satisfaction that the two men were milling around outside, looking confused and angry.

“Jyn?” Cassian said.

“Stall,” she said curtly, crowding him forward into one. “They’re behind us.”

“ _Who’s_ behind us?” he demanded, confused, gripping at her waist as she shoved him into the stall. She turned and locked the door behind her, leaning against it to be sure. When she turned back, she was alarmed at how close Cassian was in the enclosed space of the stall.

“Oh,” she said stupidly. “Sorry.”

“What’s going on?” he murmured lowly, finally seeming to take the hint that something had gone wrong. The music was still playing, loud enough that they could hear the low warble of the singer’s voice.

“They’d recognized you,” she said. She swiped a sweaty blonde lock of hair behind her ear. “Two men.”

His eyes widened. “ _Chingada madre_.”

The door slammed open, and the few women in the bathroom screamed shrilly, drunk and over-dramatic. Music flowed into the bathroom, bass thumping menacingly.

Cassian looked at Jyn, eyes wide.

Thinking quickly, she said, “Pretend we’re fucking.”

“ _What_?” he said.

Jyn felt suddenly aware of how sweaty and overheated and keyed up she was, but she grabbed his hands and put them on either side of her head, on the door of the bathroom stall, anyway.

“Hurry _up_ ,” she demanded, half out of her mind. This was a bad idea. Heavy, slow footsteps echoed through the tiled bathroom. Jyn moaned, hoping to spur Cassian on. He simply stared at her a moment before pressing his body closer to hers. Jyn didn’t have to fake the way her breath hitched at the sudden proximity. They were close enough that she could feel his breath hot on her neck, but they weren’t touching. He began to press his weight rhythmically against the door, hands still on either side of Jyn’s head, lips parted. Jyn moaned again, thumping her head back in time with Cassian’s movements, heat prickling sultry against her skin.

The footsteps stopped. The music was still playing, a woman singing English lyrics in a breathy voice. Jyn felt overheated and claustrophobic, trapped against the door and the wall of Cassian’s body. She could smell him, citrus and tobacco and sweat, and, fuck, it was making her wet.

“Yeah,” she moaned, “Fuck.”

Cassian began making little grunting noises to go along with Jyn’s increasingly vocal noises. She grinned at him crookedly, mostly to take the edge of things.

“You’re so quiet,” she murmured softly.

He rolled his eyes at her, trying not to laugh, and continued his fake thrusts.

The man outside was clearly trying to decide whether interrupting them would be worth the trouble. Jyn increased the frequency of her moans in an attempt to deter him, breathing heavily. The music faded into a new song, a man singing something in Spanish in a scorching falsetto over a thumping bassline.

She dropped her head, watching a bead of sweat travel down Cassian’s neck and disappear under the collar of his shirt. _I’m not your enemy, here_.

“What’s he saying?” she asked breathily, pointing up at the ceiling vaguely, meaning the music.

Cassian swallowed. “Uh, he’s saying,” he murmured, licking his lips, “he’s saying, ‘hard candy,’ ‘let me drive you crazy.’” The footsteps were retreating now, but Cassian kept on moving, and so did she. “’So clean, so pure,’” he continued, moving closer to her in a way that seemed involuntary. Jyn moaned again. “’I’ll never leave you alone.’’’

They seemed trapped in the rhythm they had made for themselves: again, again, again Cassian shifted against the door, making it rattle on its hinges; again, again, again Jyn thumped her body gently backwards. She’d begun to slide her arse against the door slightly, desperate for some kind of friction. The only thing off-tune was their breathing, jagged and erratic. She titled her head up slightly to look at him, all hooded eyes and parted lips.

Again, again, again.

“’A little taste is all I need,’” Cassian continued, his eyes flicking to Jyn’s lips. “ _Es todo que yo necesito_.” Jyn felt a little dizzy and wondered, somewhat hysterically, if she might pass out from the heat. Everything felt dreamy and unreal, like she was moving through molasses.

“ _Es todo que yo necesito_ ,” Jyn repeated, spellbound. Cassian’s eyes were heavy and hot as they met hers.

Again, again, again.

She thought for a moment that he might kiss her, gaze roving hot over her skin, but they somehow never touched. Jyn was wet, practically _aching_ , yet she didn’t think she could bridge the gap between them and survive it.

The door to the bathroom slamming shut jolted them both back into reality. Cassian’s hands came off the door like he’d been burnt and he looked down almost guiltily. Jyn swallowed and blinked. Unable to even look at him, she turned and opened the stall door to check if the man was really gone. He was.

“Clear,” she said, and her voice came out shakier than she’d meant it to.

“Good,” Cassian said, annoyingly even. “That was a good idea, Jyn.”

“Yeah,” she replied, glancing back at him. He was straightening out his clothes and hair, and Jyn thought she probably ought to do the same. “Thanks.”

She exited the stall and looked quickly in the mirror. Her cheeks had a lovely flush to them, and flyaway blonde hairs had escaped from her bun and were rising round her face. Glowy and sweaty, she certainly _looked_ as though she’d just been fucked to within an inch of her life. _If only_ , she grumbled internally, frustrated and overheated. She ran some cold water over her wrists as Cassian was peeking out the door to the bathroom.

“We don’t have much time,” he said. He still looked a little unsteady himself, cheeks flushed, sweat darkening the hair at the nape of his neck. “We have to find the manager’s office before the signal.”

Jyn nodded, and they crept out carefully, waiting for Los Chavas to set off the fire alarm. She followed Cassian through the crowd, the scent of his cologne still lingering like a fog in her memory.

***

The fire alarm rang only a few minutes later, once they’d shoved their way into the manager’s office and secured the manager and, more importantly, his keys. Jyn had knocked on the door, pretending she thought it was the bathroom. The manager had opened the door nice and wide once he’d looked Jyn up and down, keen on letting her know just how welcome she was, that is, until she’d broken his nose. Cassian had followed, cool as ever, dragging the screaming man further into his office.

They’d conversed in angry Spanish, and Cassian had pulled his gun. The episode had ended with the manager handcuffed to his desk, and his set of keys in Cassian’s pocket. As they’d planned, the security guards all converged on the manager’s office to protect what was most important: the drugs.

Outside, the club was in chaos. The sprinklers were on and drunk clubbers were running every which way. Cassian was looking for the club’s deed and the drugs as Jyn watched the chaos from the door. He’d given her his gun, and she picked off any of Estrada’s men that came their way. Oddly, they kept on coming. “If they don’t protect the product,” Cassian had explained, “they’ll be killed anyway.”

Melshi, men from Krennic’s organization, and Los Chavas then invaded, securing the exits and any other product that might be floating around and taking out any remaining members of Estrada’s crew. Cassian had found the deed and the stash and waved some Los Chavas members in. They dragged out the manager and the drugs. Cassian kept the deed in his pocket. It would be delivered to Krennic.

Jyn kept an eye on the chaos. Cassian exited the office and stood beside her.

“Almost done,” he said.

And then, suddenly, Jyn saw her. A child. A little girl, peeking out from behind the DJ booth. Her hair was in braided pigtails. A man was exiting one of the many side-rooms attached to the main dancefloor, clearly looking for someone.

“What the fuck,” Jyn muttered. She turned to Cassian. “Who’s that man?”

“Jesús,” he said, distracted. “Right hand to Carmelo.”

Carmelo. The leader of Los Chavas.

“Why is he chasing a little girl?”

“What?” Cassian said, finally giving it his full attention.

Jyn didn’t wait for him to answer. She started forward, but Cassian grabbed her arm before she could go.

“Liana,” he said, “leave it. Please. We need Los Chavas on our side.”

“Don’t worry,” she said easily. “I’ve got it.”

He looked at her a moment, his glance calculating, and let her go. She went towards the DJ booth, taking care to draw as little attention as possible. Her heart was pounding in her ears as she looked around surreptitiously, then ducked under the booth. The little girl looked at her, eyes wide, clearly wanting to scream but knowing she couldn’t make a sound. Jyn knew that feeling. She put a finger to her lips.

“I’m Liana,” she whispered. “I won’t hurt you.

The little girl stared at her, and didn’t say a word.  
“Why are they chasing you?” Jyn asked.

The girl simply shook her head, lips pressed together tightly.

“Alright. Alright. Don’t worry.” Jyn looked around, trying to see if anyone was nearby. It was hard for her to see anything without possibly giving their position away.

She heard Cassian’s voice, maybe a few feet away, speaking in Spanish.

Someone—Jesús, maybe?—answered.

Jyn exhaled shakily, trying not to make a sound.

Suddenly, Cassian’s voice was nearby. He was standing next to her, leaning on the DJ booth, looking into the crowd.

“ _Hide_ ,” he said to her lowly. “Manager’s office. Closet. I’ll cover you.”

And Jyn didn’t know why, but something—maybe something as practical as not having any other options, or something as small as the set of his jaw as he spoke—made her trust him in that moment. He’d said he’d cover her, and he would.

She motioned for the kid to be quiet, feeling as though she might be sick, and silently took her heels off. She reached for the girl, who simply accepted her embrace, as if she could sense that Jyn really was there to help.

“Wait for me to come find you,” Cassian murmured.

Jyn rose, heart in her throat, and walked quickly and silently to the manager’s office. Once inside, she took a deep breath and set the girl down.

“We’re gonna hide in this closet,” she said, leading her over to an accordion closet with slats in it. It wouldn’t provide much cover if anyone decided to look closer, but she hoped that Cassian would take care of things. She had to trust that he would.

Jyn didn’t want to get inside the closet. She didn’t want to look out through those slats, helpless and waiting, waiting, waiting, once again. But she had to, for the girl. She could do it for her.

“Come on,” she said, grabbing the girl’s hand.

They both huddled inside the closet, the light coming through the doors casting strange patterns on their faces. A tightness, unsettling and suffocating, settled in her chest, and sound and light seemed to tunnel strangely around her. She couldn’t do this. She wanted to run away. She couldn’t do this.

Her brain narrowed to that air vent, watching as Krennic drawled lazily, “Kill her,” the dead staring eyes of her mother, the jerky way her limbs were splayed out on the floor. Looking back, she wasn’t sure how she kept quiet as it happened. Surely, a sound must have come out of her mouth. But no one had found her. She’d hidden for hours and hours, still and silent. Even when she’d had to pee, she hadn’t moved a muscle. Soon, she remembered thinking, soon her mother or her father would remove the grate and tell her everything was alright. Soon this nightmare would be over. As the hours stretched on, she thought: _Maybe I’ve hidden myself too well_. Maybe her parents had sent someone looking for her, and she had been _too_ quiet, _too_ still. Maybe no one would ever find her. The idea had had some appeal.

The girl huddled closer to her, startling Jyn out of her reverie. She had silent tears dripping down her face. _How_ , Jyn wondered, _how were they both able to stay so quiet?_ She wanted to gather the girl in arms and tell her everything would be alright. It was much easier to be brave when someone else needed you to be.

“Can I tell you a secret?” Jyn whispered.

The girl looked over at her with big eyes and nodded gravely.

“I’m from the CIA. I’m going to get you someplace safe, alright?”

It was strange saying she worked for them. She hadn’t thought of herself as being affiliated with them whatsoever until that very moment.

“Where’s your mum and dad?”

“Daddy is at work. Mommy, they took away,” the girl explained.

“Who did, darling?”

“Mommy’s boyfriend Carmelo. Mommy was screaming.” She broke into a little sob. “I don’t know where she is.”

“Oh, sweetheart,” Jyn said, wrapping her arm around her. “Don’t worry. We’ll bring you back to daddy, and we’ll find mummy, alright?”

The girl nodded miserably. 

“Listen to me, sweetheart, this is important,” Jyn continued, clutching at her arms, eyes fierce. “If someone comes to hurt you, your job is to _run_. Run and do not stop, until you find your Dad. Do you understand me? You _run_ , and I’ll take care of the rest.”

The girl sniffled, but nodded. She wiped her nose with her shirt-sleeves and tried to put on a brave face.

“Good girl,” Jyn said. She paused. “Have you ever played hide-and-seek?”

“Yes,” the girl answered quietly, confused.

“Well, that’s all we’re doing right now, alright?” Jyn said, trying and failing to keep her voice steady. All these years. All these years and she was still waiting. “Just playing hide-and-seek until my friend comes to find us.”

“I don’t want to play,” the girl said in a wobbly voice.

“I know, darling,” Jyn replied, pulling her closer. “I know.”

The room was silent, the sound of sporadic gunshots and shouts seemingly far away. Everything felt very far away. Jyn wanted to go out and see what was happening, make sure Cassian and Melshi were okay. She didn’t want to hide anymore. She wasn’t a child anymore.

But she’d promised Cassian, and she’d have to trust in him.

The girl was looking out at the office between the slats of the doors, silent and grave and wide-eyed. She startled like an animal when the door to the office opened. Jyn just about felt like an animal, too, backed into a corner and hissing at whoever came her way.

Her heart was in her throat as she heard heavy footsteps across the linoleum floor. Soundlessly, she shifted the girl, shaking, behind her body. She was so tiny that even Jyn’s small frame hid her completely. She clutched onto Jyn’s hand.

Friend, or foe? Jyn strained to see, terrified stiff of making any noise, no matter how small. Surely Cassian would have said something by now. But all she could hear is the thumping of her own heart. When she put her free hand over her mouth and nose, wondering when her breathing had become so fucking loud, it was trembling violently.

The man finally came into view. It was Jesús, who was tall and built like a brick shithouse, with an unnervingly sharp undercut. Jyn closed her eyes tightly, and swallowed. He was coming their way. Something lodged in her throat suddenly shook loose, and she tried to breathe around it, tried to contain the emotions swelling traitorously in her eyes, but it was no use. She began to cry silently. He was only a few feet away.

The way it had started, that’s the way it would end.

Jyn readied herself to spring up and tackle him so the girl could get away. She hoped the girl would remember her instructions, before realizing how stupid she was being: the girl would probably never forget any of this, not as long as she lived, even if she tried her best.

A voice suddenly spoke in impatient Spanish. Cassian.

The weight off her shoulders was so sudden, so profound, that Jyn actually felt a little dizzy. She clenched her jaw down hard against the sigh of relief she’d wanted to give.

Cassian entered the room, but Jesús waved off whatever he said.

Jyn saw the moment Cassian made his decision: Jesús stepped towards the closet, hand outreached. Cassian’s face took on a stony expression, and he lifted his gun and shot Jesús twice in the chest, no hesitation. The man fell to the floor with a thump, instantly dead. Cassian stared down at him for a moment, and then turned to open the closet himself.

His eyes widened at the scene: Jyn primed to spring, the little girl tucked behind her, terrified. He seemed to freeze for a second, overcome, before collecting himself.

“You okay?” he grunted, tucking his gun back into his belt.

Jyn nodded, and got to her feet, pulling the girl up by her hand.

“We need to get out of here, _now_ ,” Cassian said, leading them towards the dancefloor. “I found a back door.”

“Thanks, Cassian,” Jyn said, free hand still shaking a bit. “Thank you.”

He looked back at her, a glance, and nodded quietly.

***

He found her sitting on the curb outside of El Paradiso, shivering. Dawn was just beginning to break over Calexico, and it looked like the sky was on fire. He sat down next to her, but she just continued looking out into the sunrise. It reminded her of the dream she’d had the other night, the dream she’d been having almost every night for weeks now. Jyn hugged herself tighter, the unsettling feeling that somehow she’d been here before growing stronger.

“She’s safe,” Cassian said quietly. She finally turned to look at him. His face was drawn, exhausted, pale. He was holding his jacket, and he draped it over her shoulders wordlessly. 

She gave him a tired, grateful smile and pulled it tighter over her body.

“I’m glad,” she said. That was good news. Yet she couldn’t quite bring herself to be happy. Her mind was stuck on Cassian opening that closet door, and on the dream that made her wake up to red eyes and a pillow wet with tears.

They sat in silence for a moment. He took out a cigarette and lit it. The sign blinked, desultory, behind them.

“You know,” he said, taking a drag, “I could have used someone like you when I was a kid.”

She turned to face him, confused, but he was looking up at the sky. There was something beautiful about him in that moment, his hair curling boyishly above his collar, his mouth twisted in a rueful little smile. She wanted to get inside his head. She wondered if he’d always been so serious, even as a child.

“My parents—” he began, and the words had the rust of disuse on them. He was staring at the lit end of his cigarette. “My father, he was a taxi driver. In Mexico City.” He paused, and sighed deeply. “Sorry, I don’t—I don’t tell this story much.”

Jyn just watched him quietly, hoping she conveying her warmth towards him with just her silence. She could see what it was costing him to share this.

“They wanted him to move product. And he said no,” Cassian continued, voice strangling off at the end. He took another drag, and offered the cigarette to Jyn without a glance. She accepted wordlessly, and handed it back after taking a drag herself. The warmth, and the physical act of sharing, felt nice. “They came for us one night,” he said, then, eyes on the pavement. “And my mother put me in the bedroom closet and told me not to make a sound until my Tio Eliseo came for me.”

Jyn stared at him, dumbstruck.

“Oh my god,” she whispered. Cassian scratched at his stubble sheepishly.

They were—they were the _same_. The thought hit her like a fucking blunt object to the skull. Mirror images, on opposite sides of the world. While she had been hiding in a vent, he’d been stashed in a closet, waiting for someone to tell him it was safe. Tears rose in her eyes as she struggled to wrap her mind around it. Their separation all these years seemed, suddenly, unspeakably cruel. She’d known him best, she’d always known him best, even then.

“My tio came about an hour later, and we left Mexico, then, drove all the way to New York without stopping. I decided then,” he said, jaw clenched, “that I would stop men like that, men like Krennic, men who expect the world to bow down before them, and who become violent when it doesn’t.”

He looked at Jyn, then, finally.

“I could have used you,” he said, averting his eyes when they turned glassy with tears, “to sit in that closet with me and wait, even if it was just an hour.”

Jyn grabbed his free hand and squeezed, her own eyes growing hot with tears. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I’m so sorry.”

His face gave a little pained spasm, and he crushed his cigarette under his shoe. Jyn took her hand away and looked at him, fighting the sudden compulsion she had to stroke his cheek. He was shoving his tears aside hastily.

“No wonder you were so angry with me when I wouldn’t help you,” she said gently. She had been such a fool. 

He smiled, then, like he, too, remembered the time fondly. Jyn almost wanted to laugh. “I was, I was angry,” he agreed, nodding, “but not anymore.”

“You’re not?” she asked, voice small.

He looked at her, his expression open and earnest. “How could I be?” he asked, his voice wide-open with emotion. “How could I be, now, when I finally understand? You wear your apathy like a coat of armor, Jyn, and I was—I was so unfeeling not to see it.” His eyes searched her face. “How could I not have seen it?”

She smiled bitterly, and looked down, his words cutting into her, a knife twisted once it had reached its target. They had hurt, at first, but somehow the pain had turned blood-sweet, cherry-red and warm in her mouth. He was the only one who knew how she really felt. The only one who could get close enough to slip a knife under her ribs. She blinked, her chest tight with the phantom sensation. _All these years._

“Why did you help that girl?” he asked.

Jyn’s face crumpled a little, brow furrowing under the weight of her emotions.

“She was just a kid,” she settled on, quiet and baffled. “A baby, really.”

Cassian nodded, like it was what he’d expected to hear.

“I couldn’t just—do nothing,” she tried again.

His hand, warm and steady and soft, moved to rest on her back. He understood. She could tell that he understood.

“You hungry?” he asked quietly. “Come on, I’ll buy you some breakfast.”

They got up, walking slowly, close to each other. Cassian steered her to a nearby diner that was only just opening its doors. Something in her seemed settled, somehow. Subdued.

“You know,” she said, when their eggs and coffee had been brought to the table, “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you actually eat anything.”

Cassian choked back a little laugh, taking his first bite of toast.

“When I’m Will, I’m usually so stressed I can’t eat,” he explained, looking strangely shy.

“I’m sure Ximena _loves_ that.”

“She makes me try to choke down some rice every now and then,” he admitted.

Jyn snorted.

 _How strange,_ she thought. _How wonderful_. She felt rubbed raw, somehow, like she’d been cut open. Like Cassian had seen too much. Similar to when he’d reset her shoulder. She wasn’t sure she liked it, but his expression when he looked at her was so open, so warm, she couldn’t quite bring herself to regret it.

***

Three days later, Jyn was standing in the Zócalo, gazing up at the Catedral Metropolitana and eating _esquites_ from a Styrofoam cup. She was by herself, waiting for Cassian to be finished meeting with Krennic’s Eastern seaboard distributors. Krennic had been so pleased with their takeover of El Paradiso that he’d sent them to Mexico City to shore up their network with the good news. Jyn’s presence wasn’t entirely necessary, the crew running out of the capital seeing women as little more than ornamental objects to throw money at, but Krennic had told Cassian to take her along with a saucy wink. He thought they were fucking.

It was a beautiful day, not too hot but still sunny, and the ancient square was packed with visitors. Jyn turned to the sun with closed eyes and let it warm her face. It was nice. She thought perhaps she might even be starting to like Mexico. The country wasn’t all as barren as the desert around Hacienda Rosales. She thought with a smile of this being Cassian’s home, his city. He’d rattled off a whole list of places she could visit while he was busy, and foods she had to eat, and emergency Spanish phrases.

She’d found herself blushing as she drove, listening to him speak, because this time there wasn’t a wall between them, or one of Estrada’s boys threatening them. She could hear him loud and clear, the warmth in his gravelly voice as he taught her how to say she was lost and to ask for directions. This, she thought, was becoming a problem. Her mind frequently drifted back to that bathroom stall in El Paradiso, where he had been so close to her, where the feel and smell and body of him was all around her, inescapable. But she hadn’t felt trapped. She’d felt like a live wire.

She wondered if she might be putting too much stock in Cassian, and, by extension, the CIA. Bodhi certainly thought so. When he’d informed her that she was going to Mexico City, he’d asked, quietly:

“What about your dad?”

“The sooner we dismantle the Death Star, the sooner my father is found.”

“And how does a trip to Mexico City help us dismantle the Death Star?”

Jyn had huffed. “We’re keeping on Krennic’s good side, and we’re going to the CIA home office in Mexico City to figure out the ICE thing and to formalize some kind of plan for the end stages here,” she’d explained. “Cassian said we should hopefully be out of here in a month.”

“A month?!” Bodhi had cried. “And what about in the meantime? What’s your father supposed to do?”

Something hard had lodged in Jyn’s throat. “A month won’t kill him,” she’d gritted out.

“A month _could_ very well kill him, Jyn,” Bodhi had said.

“Well,” Jyn had replied, voice tight, “I’ve been waiting twenty years, and I’m doing just fine.”

Bodhi didn’t understand. He _couldn’t_ understand. Jyn sat down on a bench in the Zócalo, trying to untangle this mess in her head. She felt like a dog trying to dig a pit only to have the dirt come tumbling back in. Clawing through the same shit over and over again, but never getting any closer to the truth. Her father was more or less a figment of her imagination, now, an old-timey film star in washed-out home movies. There was no immediacy. She barely knew him. _Obviously_ , she barely knew him, because the man she’d known would never have built _weapons_ if there was nothing and no one—no Lyra, no Jyn—to hold over his head. And yet he had. And he’d named the newest, the deadliest _Stardust_. Her special name. Their special, shared thing.

She remembered the day she’d asked him why he called her that. It had been a balmy summer evening, and he’d pointed up at the stars, his hand warm on her shoulder.

“You see those stars, Jyn?”

She’d nodded, eyes wide.

“When one explodes, it becomes a million tiny, tiny particles, and they glimmer and sparkle and shine,” he said. “They travel all over the galaxy for years and years, until one day, they build something new.”

“Like what?”

“Like me. And you. This whole planet,” he’d said. “From total destruction, from _nothing_ , something beautiful is built.” He was gazing up at the sky in wonder. “An apology for all that pain. Redemption, at long last.”

“So why do you call _me_ Stardust, then?”

“Well,” he’d said, “everyone has a little stardust in them. Your mother has a lot.”

“You too?”

“Hmm, a little.” He’d smiled down at her. “But you’re the only one I know who’s _one hundred percent_ stardust.”

Tears rose in Jyn’s eyes amongst the heat and pigeons and tourists of the Zócalo. She wished that she could just put it all away. She wished that she could put _him_ away, the way he’d so clearly put her away all those years ago. Never a letter, never a call, never a visit. And she was supposed to drop everything to come to his rescue? _Please_. No. No. Right now, her priority was the Death Star. Then she’d worry about its inventor.

“There you are,” came Cassian’s voice, bringing her out of her reverie.

He had rolled up the sleeves of his shirt, a lovely pale green number, and he looked agitated. The sun beat down on him.

“What’s wrong?” she asked, tipping her cup of _esquites_ toward him in a silent offer.

Looking around balefully, he said, “I forgot how being home makes me itchy.” He paused, and took his roll of Tums out of his shirt-pocket. Popping two of them, he grimaced and shook his head. “No, thank you.”

She squinted up at him and asked, “How was the meeting?”

Sitting beside her, he rolled his eyes. “Long. Annoying. I dislike these men in particular. They’re…” His eyes narrowed in confusion. “… _este…_ we would call them _nacos_?” He paused, casting about for a word. “Country people, a slang word? Not sophisticated?”

Her confusion cleared. “Oh, _rednecks_ ,” she said, breaking out into a grin. Cassian’s English was usually so flawless. It was strangely endearing when he got anything wrong.

He palmed the back of his neck, embarrassed but grinning slightly at himself. “You’re making fun of me.” 

“No, no,” she said quickly, unable to help her smile, “it’s just—it’s nice to teach you something for a change.” 

“You’ve taught me plenty,” he said, with eyes like warm brown tea. “Come on, I’ll get you an _agua fresca_ and we’ll go to headquarters.”

***

After about two hours of intensive dry-cleaning, they arrived at the CIA headquarters in the capital, the base of the agency’s operations in the country.

The dour Agent Esso approached them, then, looking utterly put-upon.

Jyn smiled like a shark. “Good to see you again, Agent.”

“ _Spare_ me,” he said, with a withering look. He turned to Cassian. “They’re out in full force today.”

Cassian frowned.

“Who?” Jyn asked.

“The _Americans_ ,” Esso sniffed.

She looked around in an over-exaggerated fashion. “We _are_ at CIA HQ,” she stage-whispered, hoping he’d take the bait.

Esso fixed her with an affronted stare, before swiveling back to Cassian. What a disappointment. She kind of checked out as they continued to talk, praying that Esso would leave already.

“ _Que haces?”_ someone said, in an infuriatingly self-satisfied voice.

Three heads spun to find the source of the smoothly-accented Spanish. He was tall, brown-haired white guy, actually quite handsome, but Jyn could sense his arrogance as he smirked from across the room. She almost couldn’t help the annoyed expression on her face, because for once God had answered her prayers, but they had evidently been answered in the form of a shithead.

“Solo,” said Cassian, and Jyn nearly smiled at the distaste that briefly flickered across his face. They shook hands, Cassian doing his best hale-fellow-well-met, and Jyn almost wanted to laugh. His expression was becoming more and more shuttered. “What are you doing in Mexico?”

“Well, Director Mothma asked me in,” the man answered. He flashed an unnervingly white smile. Jyn suddenly understood what Esso had meant by ‘Americans,’ and she felt a reluctant kinship with her countryman.

“Still the Hutt family?” Cassian asked.

The man nodded, and then looked past Cassian to Jyn and Esso.

“Agent Esso, always good to see you,” he said with a smirk.

Esso gave an affronted look. “I don’t consort with _criminals_.”

The man—Solo—simply ignored him, turning to Jyn. “And who is this, Andor? New assistant?” As Cassian began to answer, Solo addressed Jyn directly and asked, “Has he tried to fuck you yet?”

Jyn knew she was playing right into his hands, but she couldn’t help the surprise that came over her face. That was perhaps the _last_ thing she’d expected to come out of anyone’s mouth regarding Cassian Andor. She quickly schooled her face into an expression of contempt, and opened her mouth to tell him off, but Cassian beat her to it.

“That was once,” he said, a rueful little smile twisting his mouth. There was something bitter and pained in his voice. “And I married her.”

Jyn sat in stunned silence. _What?_

Cassian looked away from Solo, who still had a smug little smile on his face. “And she wasn’t my _assistant_ ,” Cassian continued, the hurt replaced with annoyance. “She was a liaison from the drugs squad. A full agent.”

“Liaison _indeed_ ,” Solo said. Cassian frowned. Solo seemed to read the hostile energy of the room, coming primarily from the indignant Esso, and chuckled softly to himself. “Alright, alright,” he said, holding his hands up.

Jyn, still taken aback, blurted out, “You have a _wife_?” She hadn’t noticed a ring on his finger.

“Ex-wife,” Cassian said. He was staring down at his hands.

“Slag,” Esso muttered.

“Kay,” Cassian scolded, half-hearted. “We both know I was working too much.”

The conversation between the two men had an air of being a well-worn one.

“Yeah?” Solo said curiously, clearly not feeling the edge in the air, or else ignoring it. “I heard she left you because you nearly got your leg shot off and you still wanted to go back undercover.”

At that, Cassian pinned him a look that clearly said, _Back the fuck off._ The other man shrugged insouciantly, but he did finally shut up.

They began to catch up with each other, but Jyn was still stuck on the fact that Cassian had been married, had been someone’s husband. He, who, as far as she could tell, had faith only in his mission, had promised to spend the rest of his life with someone. She wasn’t sure why that seemed to matter so much. What did she care that he had been married? Maybe because it made no fucking sense in the puzzle she’d been slowly, deliberately, lovingly been putting together. Maybe because she had been here before. This could be the weak spot, the place where it all unravels. This could be the first small omission, just a little something to whet the appetite, before they became half-truths, outright lies, careful manipulations. This could be to get her acclimated, so she’d be so inured by the time the big fuck-off betrayal came, she’d blame herself. Saw had been good at that. Her father, she was realizing now, might have been the only one better. She didn’t know who to trust anymore.

Bodhi. She could trust Bodhi. And he’d thought she was foolishly putting all her eggs in the CIA basket. Maybe he’d been right. She was starting to think that maybe she’d lost her mind these past few days. She’d trusted Cassian about the girl, about her father. Maybe it had all been a game to get her cooperation.

 _Fuck_ , she thought, looking at Cassian as he lit another cigarette with an air of boredom. She wanted to trust to him. She wanted to trust him so fucking badly she could taste it. She’d thought she’d finally had him figured out.

The first item on their agenda was Cassian’s private meeting with his boss, during which he’d ask her about ICE. He went into her office as Jyn was still mulling over the whole ex-wife thing, and she’d had only been waiting outside for a few minutes when he reemerged.

“She says we doesn’t know anything about ICE’s involvement,” he said, looking thoughtful.

Jyn waited for more, but he didn’t continue. “…And you believe her?” she prompted, her voice not without doubt.

A flicker of annoyance. “Yes, Jyn, I believe her.”

“…And what is the CIA going to do about it?” she prompted again, started to become annoyed herself.

“There’s nothing they really can do,” Cassian said. “They function as entirely distinct agencies. They can send an official inquiry, but that’s all.”

It sounded a bit too much like the official line for Jyn’s taste.

“So they’re just going to do nothing?” she said.

Cassian didn’t answer, instead lighting a cigarette and leaning back against the wall. Jyn became unaccountably annoyed at the cloud of smoke obscuring his face.

“Are you even allowed to smoke in here?” she said shortly.

He blinked back at her. “What’s going on with you?”

She rolled her eyes and made to walk away.

“I thought we were past this,” he said quietly. His eyes flicked to hers, exhausted. The sickly glow of the fluorescent lighting made his skin seem an unhealthy jaundiced color.

“What the fuck does that mean?” she snapped. “Would you stop speaking in fucking code?”

“At least I’m saying something,” he replied, a feral gleam in his eye that Jyn couldn’t resist. “You,” he gestured towards her with the hand holding his cigarette, “all you do is sit there, silent, so I can’t even begin to guess at what you’re thinking.”

“What would you like to know?” she asked with sarcastic solicitousness. She felt coiled up, strung tight, ready to snap. She had been a fool. 

“ _What’s going on with you_?” he repeated.

“How are you okay with this?”

“Jyn, I am on _such_ thin ice with my boss—”

“What do these people have over you? A US agency is trying gas immigrants from your own fucking country and you’re going to let them sweep it under the rug?”

“You don’t understand,” he gritted.

“Explain it to me, then!”

“You wouldn’t understand. You’ve never thought of anything bigger than yourself.”

Jyn’s eye widened, anger and hurt flaring in dangerous and intoxicating combination. “You’re right, I _don’t_ understand,” she snapped. “I bet you’d sell your own mother for your precious CIA.” Her rage was cooling to something icy and sharp, and she stepped closer to him. “I’m starting to understand why your wife is now your _ex_ -wife. What, did you ask her to seduce some drug-runner?” She cocked her head like a predator considering its prey, close enough that she could smell his cologne, close enough so that she could murmur, “You asked her to get dicked down for the job?”

“ _Carajo_ , Jyn, enough,” he snarled.

“I mean, you let Estrada’s boys feel me up,” she mused mockingly. “You think the CIA’s gonna ask me to fuck someone? I bet you’d be right behind them, cheering it on.”

“No,” Cassian said lowly, his eyes glinting like gemstones, “I’ve had about enough of hearing you have sex with other people.”

She smiled like a knife. “You pretend to be so _open_ with me, all your kumbaya let’s-trust-each-other shite, but there’s always another layer to hide behind, isn’t there? Always another identity to put on.”

Had that been why his wife had left him? Even after his leg had been mangled, he’d been desperate to get something to hide behind again once more?

Cassian’s eyes widened, visibly hurt, before his face hardened. “That’s—coming from you, that is so unfair,” he seethed. “You tell me _nothing_ , and you punish me for—what, exactly? What is it that I’m supposed to have done?” He shook his head. “You know what, Jyn?” he said, leaning in close, “I think you sometimes purposefully go places that I cannot reach you. You say these things, Jyn—You—you _hide_ from me.”

“Me? Hide from _you_? You’re the one who hides behind the skirts of the fucking CIA.”

He raked a hand through his hair, deflating with an exhale. “What is it, Jyn? What do you want to know?” he asked, voice going pleading and soft. “Go ahead and ask.”

His sudden conciliatory turn made her annoyance flare even further, mainly because it was kind of working. How, she wondered, did he manage to turn every argument on its head? To pull her in closer when she was doing everything she could to push him away? For all Jyn’s uncanny ability to accurately feel out and jab at his sore spots, he kept on defying every expectation she had.

When she didn’t respond, Cassian sighed, and put his hands on his hips, frustrated. “I don’t know where you’ve been, Jyn, or—or the things you’ve seen,” he said. “But—I _understand_ , Jyn—”

“No, Cassian—it’s—” She couldn’t seem to articulate what she was feeling, and she squeezed her eyes shut in frustration. How could she explain this to him? How could she make him see that trusting was not something she was practiced in? How could she say that she lashed out at him so he wouldn’t see how fatally she was wounded?

Finally, she said, very quietly, “Do you know what it cost me, just to be in the same room as him?” She paused, and glanced at him. Quickly, she looked back down, unable to stand the gentle, expectant look he was giving her. “ _I want to trust you_ ,” she said, the words coming out of her like acid. “I’m _trying_. But I know that you have to choose the CIA over me. And that’s alright, that’s _fine_ , but can you understand why I have to protect myself?”

“Jyn, I—”

“It’s okay, Cassian, I just—I need some air,” she muttered, not waiting for him to respond, walking away and looking for a door or a balcony or a fucking window she could throw herself out of.

It only took her a few minutes to found a washroom with a window, and she stuck what she could of her head out of it, breathing in the temperate air of Mexico City. Fuck, she hated this place. The dead of winter, and it was fucking balmy out. It just wasn’t right. She wanted to go home. She shut her eyes tightly and tried to breathe.

She ran her wrists under some cool water. It felt good, almost, to have reached her limit. To see that her slip into madness, into Cassian Andor, wasn’t one never-ending freefall. Finally, finally, she’d reached the bottom. She stared at her reflection in the bathroom mirror.

Her burner phone rang.

It was Bodhi. She answered.

“Jyn,” Bodhi said, his voice low and urgent. “ _Jyn_.”

“Bodhi?” she said, alarmed. “What’s wrong? Are you okay?”

“Yes, yes, I’m fine,” he replied impatiently. “It’s the _weapon_ , Jyn. They’ve finished it. It’s done.”

Jyn’s blood turned to ice. “ _What?_ ” she cried. “I thought they were months off!

“No,” Bodhi said, sounding haunted. “No. It’s ready.”

***

“Either they misled us, or a breakthrough was made in R&D,” Cassian said, who’d worked his way through half a roll of Tums in the last quarter of an hour.

Mothma did not look impressed, and her blonde quiff stood rigidly in distaste.

“There was no way we could have predicted this,” Jyn said tightly, refusing to meet Cassian’s eye when he looked her direction. Why, she wondered, was she defending him?

They bickered over what the plan of action ought to be, and Jyn stayed quiet throughout, only speaking when she was asked questions, and then only in terse, clipped sentences. Cassian was looking at her with his impenetrable Will face and she wanted to scream.

“Krennic loves Miss Erso,” Esso was saying, a hint of grudging respect in his tone. “She’ll get close to him, stroke his fragile middle-aged male ego, get him to show off with the weapon. Cassian will be over the comms, acting as her handler.”

Solo squinted at the tall agent. “Have you been talking to Leia?” He paused, and turned to Cassian. “Is it feasible, Andor?

The other man nodded, looking wan.

“Jyn?” Mothma prompted.

“Sounds straightforward enough.”

***

Jyn peered across the table at the two nondescript men in suits. 

“What’s your opinion of Agent Andor?” one asked. His voice was even more toneless than Cassian’s had been as Will. It set Jyn’s teeth on edge.

“Do you think he might be…too _close_ to this operation?” the other one, the one with the red tie, said.

“Has he ever said or done anything that made you _uncomfortable_?” Blue Tie followed up.

“We could replace him with Agent Solo if you would prefer another handler.”

Jyn kept her face blank. She wanted to know where she stood before she said anything. “Where is this coming from?”

“Director Mothma,” said Red Tie. “We have… _concerns_.”

“Who would have thought, right?” the other said, his face breaking into an amused little rictus grin. Jyn wanted to punch him. “Strait-laced as they come, Cassian Andor.” He shook his head.

“But that Latin blood always comes out,” Red Tie said. He turned to Jyn. “ _Fiery_.”

“It’s the spicy food,” Blue Tie explained.

The reasons behind Cassian’s stern professional demeanor were beginning to slot into place in Jyn’s mind.

“Ah,” she said. “Right.” She paused. “Here’s the thing, lads. Listen carefully, because I’ll only say this once.”

They leaned in, smiling. One practically had a pen to paper waiting for her to begin speaking.

“If anyone,” she said, enunciating slowly and clearly, “ _anyone_ , besides Cassian Andor is my handler during this operation, I will not only refuse to participate, I will _personally_ hand Krennic a list of agents active in Mexico.” She gave them a toothy grin. “And guess which of you cunts will be at the top?”

They both stared at her, mouths open in shock.

“Try to get Cassian fired again, I’ll steal both your identities and fuck your credit score up so badly you won’t be able to buy a pack of fucking gum without collateral. You understand me?”

They nodded hastily, with matching expressions of terror.

“Good,” she said, smiling. She got to her feet. “I’m glad we had this chat.”

***

She dreamed of the beach again that night. Someone was embracing her as the world burnt to ashes around them and the sand liquified under their feet. She woke up unsure where she was, reaching for arms that weren’t there. 

It was the middle of the night. She’d taken off her wig, but she’d forgotten to take out her contacts, and she blinked uncomfortably before padding to the bathroom to take them out. Squirting solution into her eyes, she peeled off the sticky brown lenses. It _hurt_. She stared at her reflection in the mirror. Even with her real hair, her real eyes, sometimes she wasn’t sure she recognized herself at all.

She’d been going over his words all fucking night.

_I think you sometimes purposefully go places that I cannot reach you._

Of course she ran from him. Of course she hid from him. She was _terrified_. Of him, and all he seemed to be offering. Of herself, and all that she wanted from him. His world had collided into hers with all the subtlety and grace of a multi-car pile-up. He’d muscled his way past every defense she had, edifices that had been years in the making. He’d ripped a wound in her, without even _trying_ , and here she was, hoping he would plunge the knife in again, again, again.

What, she thought to herself wildly, had Cassian done to her? She wished she’d never met him, because she hated it. This guilt, this fragility, this heartache, this desire—she wanted no part of it. She wanted him out of her head. But all she could do was watch helplessly as he bypassed no man’s land and starting making himself at home on her soil. She’d surrendered wordlessly. He just didn’t see it yet.

Because he was wrong, of course. There was nowhere she could go, no place she could hide from him. He’d cut off all routes of escape: with every glance, every word, every smile, he’d been slowly, gradually boxing her in. Building a home. Even if she ran to the other side of the world, she would carry him with her.

Her hands were shaking as she touched her lips gently, wondering if he would kiss her as softly. It was too late. It was already too late.

***

“I want to make a stop on the way back to the hacienda,” Cassian said that morning. He was quiet as she drove him to a Mexico City address, a tiny church in a rundown residential neighborhood.

He got out of the car, and looked up at its crumbling steeple. “I grew up here,” he said. Jyn watched him with soft eyes as he entered.

The interior was beautiful even in disrepair, a huge crucifix the centerpiece, a liquid-eyed Christ looking down at them in agony. Jyn had never been religious, but even she could feel the hushed power of the image in the tiny parish church.

Cassian looked up at it, an unreadable expression on his face, and knelt down in a pew. He shifted uncomfortably, but remained kneeling. Jyn sat next to him with a look of concern.

“Your leg,” she said quietly. She joined him, getting to her knees. She didn’t really know how all this worked, and looked around with vague confusion.

He ignored her comment, saying instead, cryptically, “It was all three if you were wondering.”

She frowned, not understanding. “What?” she said.

“My ex-wife,” he replied evenly, looking up at the crucifix. “I was working too much. That led her to…seek out someone else. The final straw was my leg.”

She didn’t understand what he was doing, but listened anyway. She folded her hands into her best approximation of prayer and continued to watch him.

“Elena didn’t like the way the CIA treated me after,” he explained, eyes far away. “She didn’t understand why I wanted to go undercover again.”

“If the way they treat you now is any indication, I don’t blame her,” Jyn said quietly, thinking of the two suits and the conversation they’d had with her.

“No,” Cassian said, “No, they were right. I trusted the wrong person, and the whole operation was compromised as a result. It had all been for nothing.” He looked down at his hands, folding on the back of the pew in front of them. His brow crumpled as he measured his next words, and he closed his eyes before he spoke. “The things I’ve _done_ , Jyn—I’ve hurt so many people. For them. For the CIA. Fighting the _good fight_ ,” he said bitterly. “I shut down so many parts of myself, just to survive. Just to live and work alongside those men. To _be_ one of those men.”

Jyn thought she was beginning to understand. She knew what that felt like.

“I was supposed to,” he stumbled, “I was supposed to die that night, in that warehouse. Elena would have gotten my pension, and she could have moved on without guilt. I would have paid the price for what I’d done and it would have been settled.” He opened his eyes, then, and he looked _exhausted_. “But instead I _lived_ ,” he said, disgust and bafflement clear in his voice.

“You don’t need to punish yourself,” she insisted quietly. “You’ve suffered enough.”

He shook his head firmly, hard eyes staring, unseeing, in front of him.

“That’s why I had to go back undercover,” he said. “If I hadn’t, every…every violent, awful thing I’d done would have been for _nothing_ , and I couldn’t–I couldn’t have that on my conscience.” He paused, shifting uncomfortably again. He gazed up at the image of Christ above them. “I’m not—I’m not so arrogant that I believe I’ll be _forgiven_ ,” he continued quietly, his voice tight, “but, if I do something substantial, if I bring down a network, then _maybe_ , _maybe_ —”

Jyn watched him, rapt. He shifted his knee again, and she grabbed his arm.

“Stop it,” she implored. She hauled him up to sit on the pew as best she could, and he followed along with no objection. “Stop punishing yourself.”

He scrubbed his hands over his face and sat back. When he looked up again, his eyes seemed clearer, like he had finally righted himself. His hands gripped at the pew in front of them.

“I get blood on my hands, Jyn,” he explained evenly, “so other people don’t have to. I’ve come to terms with that.” He looked at her. “But do you understand why I _need_ this operation? Why I have to do everything I can?”

He had an expression on his face like he was begging her to understand.

She thought of his face as he’d shot Estevez, of the quiet way he’d spoken to the young man before killing him. She realized that she had no idea where he’d been, what he’d seen, what he’d done. And yet she understood him. She _knew_ him. She knew him, somehow.

Her eyes roved over him a moment, hands palm-up in supplication, before she nodded. “Yeah,” she said. “Yeah, I understand.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Do yourself a favor, and do NOT look up kneecapping. 
> 
> The two songs they hear in El Paradiso are Jessie Ware's "The Kill" and Miguel's "Caramelo Duro." Longtime readers (lol) will note that Miguel remains very dear to me.
> 
> que pedo - what's up  
> pinche mierde - fucking shit  
> no mames - holy shit/you're kidding  
> que haces - what's up


	3. YO TE LLEVO, LLÉVAME

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> chapter title translation: I take you, take me/I carry you, carry me
> 
> ok so while I was writing this I realized that Rogue One and Miss Congeniality have essentially the same plot line. Just goes to show you what a powerful movie Miss Congeniality is. 
> 
> excuse me while I throw some smut at you

His voice, all gravel, was in her ear, and it felt oddly intimate.

“Kestrel, do you read me?”

“I read you, Fulcrum.”

Her heels clicked as she walked along the hardwood floor of Hacienda Rosales. She checked her makeup in the mirror, admiring the single black tear of mascara that she’d gotten to run down her cheek. Cassian had helped her by squeezing about half a bottle’s worth of Visine into her eyes. She went over the angle in her head: Liana and Will had been fucking for a few weeks; Liana had thought the trip to Mexico City indicated Will’s desire to get more serious, but instead Will had ended their arrangement. Thus, tears. She resisted the urge to grin at herself in the mirror.

Bodhi, who’d been nearly catatonic with panic by the time they’d returned, had been very grateful a plan had been formulated, and offered to help in any way. They commissioned him to try to isolate Krennic and, if possible, get him drunk. He used his connections with Ximena to arrange some kind of meeting, ostensibly to break some bad news. Jyn was very impressed with his ingenuity.

“You know,” Cassian’s voice crackled over the line. “I would have thought Agent Solo would have been more your style.”

Jyn scoffed, and smiled. Typical of Cassian to bring this up right when she couldn’t see his face. Someone must have told him about her meeting with the suits. “I hardly need someone to _encourage_ me to give in to my impulses,” she said drily. 

“Ah,” he said. “You need _balance_. I see.”

“Your name says it all, Fulcrum.”

He laughed a little over the line, and Jyn felt it like a physical thing. It was nice to hear him sound happy.

“Thank you, Kestrel,” he said earnestly. “And good luck.”

“Anything for you, Fulcrum,” she drawled. “Going radio silent.”

Jyn folded her body in on itself a bit, trying to look like she’d just been crying. She stepped out onto the patio, pretending to be swiping at tears, looking down at her feet and sniffling.

“Liana?” came Krennic’s puzzled voice. He was already drunk.

She looked up, and pretended to startled. “Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t know—”

“S’alright,” he drawled. His eyes traveled her body, currently clad in the same blue dress she’d worn to the boxing-gym meeting. She shivered a bit and wrapped her arms around herself. When the sun went down, it got cold as death in the desert. She glanced up at the stars, a truly aggressive amount in the crystalline sky of rural Mexico. Used to the smog of London, Jyn had to stop herself staring. It was the first time, she thought dully, that she’d really looked up at the stars in this godforsaken place. It reminded her of that night in Yorkshire, when the sky had been clear and bright too, when her father had told her all about stardust.

“Join me,” Krennic said, and he was so unpracticed in sympathy that it came out like a demand. Hatred like vitriol rose in her throat. She joined him.

Krennic poured her some tequila. “What’s Will done?” he asked. “Do I need to have a chat with him?”

Jyn fought the urge to grimace. She reckoned he must imagine that he was being charming.

“It’s just—” she began, making a show of blinking back fresh tears. “I thought Latin men were supposed to be _passionate_.” Cassian snorted over the line. “But he doesn’t seem to feel anything at all,” she sniffed miserably. Jyn finished her drink, and gave an exaggerated shudder. Liana was definitely a lightweight.

Krennic shook his head sloppily. “Will’s a cold bastard, Liana. Think he might be part robot. I thought, if anyone could get that prick to loosen up, it would be you.” He smiled lazily and sloshed out more tequila for them both. Jyn immediately slammed hers back.

Krennic laughed a bit. “Steady on, there, Liana.” He finished his own tequila, then poured them both another glass. Jyn grinned internally. If she could get Krennic far enough into his cups, and convince him that she was doing the same, they might have a shot at this.

“How,” she hiccupped, “could he not see that inviting me to Mexico City _meant_ something?”

Krennic blinked slowly. He’d already gotten drunker than he’d intended.

“Why did he invite me if he’s ‘not sure’?” she continued, complete with drowsy air-quotes. “Not sure?! Not _sure_?! I mean, am I not _enough_ for him? Not fit enough? Not smart enough?” She was pouting now, swirling her tequila around sulkily.

Pretending to finish her glass, she kept her hands wrapped firmly around it and thrust it forward for more. With any luck, Krennic wouldn’t see that she barely drank any of it. He didn’t seem to, as he poured more into her cup.

“Excellent work, Kestrel,” she heard low in her ear. She had to fight not to smile.

“He’s a fool, Liana,” Krennic drawled. He’d finished his own drink, determined, apparently, not to be outdone by her.

“I should have known,” she said, “I should have known when he didn’t protect me from Estrada’s boys. I need, I need a _real_ man, yeah?” Cassian was laughing over the line again. “Someone who knows what he wants, and isn’t afraid to take it.”

She looked at Krennic through her lashes, eyes tequila-bright and electric. Krennic’s own eyes were slightly hooded, looking across at her with something between condescension and lust. Jyn wanted to slit his throat.

“Oh yeah?” he asked lowly. Oh, she _had_ him.

“Yeah,” she said flirtatiously. “Like you did with the Death Star. You wanted it done, and you got it done. You have _ambition_. Will’s just a cog in the machine.”

“I destroyed anyone who got in my way,” Krennic bragged drunkenly. “That Erso bitch, Estevez, Estrada...”

Jyn stiffened, fighting against the impulse to strangle him with her bare hands. She had him. She had him right here. She could snuff out his life _so easily_ , just as he’d snuffed out her mother’s. Just as she suspected he’d snuffed out her father’s. Her hands twitched with the urge, and all she could hear for a moment was a roaring noise in her ears as she watched Krennic continue to brag about his acts of violence.

“…Kestrel? Kestrel, stay with me,” Cassian was saying. “You’re so close.”

She _was_ so close, she thought viciously. Close enough to cause grievous bodily harm. She swirled her tequila around in its glass, lost in fantasies of snatching the bottle and slamming it over Krennic’s head, shoving the jagged edge into his venomous blue eyes, letting the yellow liquid mingle with the thick red blood. Give him back just a _taste_ of the hell he’d unleashed.

“Come on, we can do this,” Cassian said. She blinked, and exhaled. Something in his voice, in the way he said _we_ , brought her back down to earth.

“…I’ll show that fucker Vader exactly who he’s dealing with,” Krennic was saying.

Jyn didn’t know who this Vader person was, but she grinned. “Maybe you ought to use the Death Star on _him_ ,” she said, eyes alight.

Smirking, Krennic said, “Vicious, Liana. I’d underestimated you.” 

She giggled. 

“If you could use it on anyone, who would you choose?” she asked. “I’d choose Will, _obviously_.”

Cassian snorted in her ear. “Very funny,” he murmured.

“Hmm,” Krennic said, taking another large gulp of tequila. “Galen Erso, probably.”

Jyn felt her spine prick and arch, like a cat’s. _Go on_ , she thought. _Go on._ Was this Krennic saying that he didn’t know where Galen was? Or was it an admission?

“Isn’t he your chief scientist?” she asked, adorably confused.

“He _was_ ,” drawled Krennic. “But then he went and disappeared. Left me with a machine that doesn’t fucking work and the fucking promise of _Stardust_ , whatever the fuck that is.” His face was bitterly pinched as he spoke. “I killed his wife for far less. He ought to have thanked me, for removing all the things distracting him from his work.”

Jyn froze, heart dropping like an anvil in her chest. Even Cassian seemed to sense the way the air curdled, though Krennic did not.

“Jyn—” Cassian tried. “Jyn, listen to me—”

“He was a brilliant man,” Krennic said lazily, “but he betrayed me, and that I cannot forgive.” He paused. “Would you like to see it?”

“What?” Jyn asked, leaning forward, lips curled into a cruel smile. “The Death Star?”

“Jyn—” Cassian tried again. “Jyn, do _not_ —”

Krennic nodded. Jyn gave her best smile, heart in her throat. Immediately after he had his back to her, her face dropped. As she got up to follow him, she removed her earpiece and threw it over the balcony. She didn’t need her better angels getting in her way.

***

As they reached the restricted area of KrenTech Labs, Jyn considered how she might kill Krennic. She had her knife at her disposal, but she wasn’t sure if perhaps she ought to do something a little bit more creative. Cassian was probably pulling his hair out. He couldn’t see or hear her, and likely wouldn’t be able to send anybody where they had gone. Very few people had access to this area of the lab, and none, as far as Jyn knew, were on Cassian’s payroll.

She smirked as she followed Krennic, imagining the spark of tormented recognition in his eyes before he died.

It would have to be slow, then, she mused, as Krennic held the door open for her. He was weaving slightly, having, in his arrogance, drunk far more than he could handle. She was beginning to understand why Cassian enjoyed being undercover so much. It was fun making fools of men like Krennic. And he _was_ a fool. Middle-aged, grasping for the attention and approval of younger women. Pathetic. It brought Jyn a twisted, vicious pleasure, planning how he would suffer before he died. 

They finally reached the Death Star. It was essentially a large chamber, closed in by plexiglass paneling covered by metal slats. Outside was complex-looking machinery, centered around a terminal just to the left of the door to the chamber itself.

“There’s a terminal, here, where we the controls are,” he said, pawing at the controls. “State-of-the-art security system. Two biometric scans, and a passcode that changes daily. I’ll show you how it works.”

Jyn hesitated. She couldn’t very well kill him when he was about to reveal the inner workings of the Death Star. It could be useful.

He fiddled with the machine, and it scanned his eyes and then his facial structure.

“I thought it wasn’t ready yet,” Jyn said.

“It wasn’t,” Krennic said, punching in a code. “But, as it turns out, one of my engineers was hiding the final blueprints Galen had developed before he disappeared. On this very machine. All Galen’s work, right here. He has balls, I’ll give him that.”

“How’d you find out?” Jyn asked. She wasn’t sure she wanted to know what happened to that poor engineer.

“Chance, really,” Krennic drawled. “One of the others stumbled on an irregularity involving the terminal’s usage—something about gigabytes or some shite like that—and investigated. We found all the files.”

“Oh my god.”

“I know. But don’t worry, Liana, he’ll be punished.”

That’s what she’d been afraid of. She smirked. “I have no doubt.”

“Care for a demonstration?”

Jyn’s heart caught in her throat. “A—demonstration? You mean—now?”

Had this all been a trap? Had they slipped up? Her mind raced, trying to figure out when exactly they’d been compromised.

“Yeah,” Krennic said easily, punching some buttons. The iron windows began to roll up slowly, making Jyn’s heartbeat ratchet up to a gallop. She had no way of contacting Cassian, of letting him know what was going on. Backing towards the door slowly, she tried desperately to think of some way out of this situation.

“No, actually,” she said shakily, “I feel a bit sick—too much tequila—”

The metal slats had rolled all the way up, leaving only the plexiglass window. She froze, eyes wide, at what she saw inside.

A man. A man was inside the gas chamber. His palms were pressed up against the viewing window, and he was screaming silently from behind the glass.

“This is Dmitri!” Krennic announced. “He’s my head scientist. Or, rather, he _was_.”

Jyn thought she was going to be sick. The floor somehow seemed unsteady under her feet as she stared at Dmitri with wide eyes. He was tall, and gaunt-looking, with a poorly-kempt beard and glasses. He was staring at Jyn, pounding and pounding on the soundproof glass, until she thought his hands might start bleeding. She wanted to look away, but she couldn’t, somehow. She tried to communicate with her eyes the horror she felt while Krennic’s back was turned.

“This is what happens,” Krennic said, “to people who betray me.”

Jyn turned to look at him. Was this—some sort of test? A warning? She didn’t know. Perhaps she was being paranoid. In any case, the one thing that seemed clear was that it was too late to back out now, unless she wanted to risk the entire operation. She would have to stay, and watch, frozen and silent, unable to do anything.

Gas began to fill the chamber. Dmitri’s eyes turned animal, and he began to pound and claw at the walls and windows with unrestrained ferocity. He didn’t want to die in there. Jyn could see the panic in him, and another wave of nausea rolled over her head. She was flailing in it now, throat closing up as she watched Dmitri thrash soundlessly.

“It’ll take about twenty minutes. Not even with Galen’s blueprints could my men deliver what was originally promised,” Krennic said, with the air of someone complaining to a waiter in a restaurant.

Jyn couldn’t say how long they stood there, waiting, feeling herself sinking deeper and deeper in anguish. This man. This poor man. He was trapped, caged, alone, dying in front of her eyes, and there was nothing she could do to stop it. She had to grin at Krennic, and pretend she was impressed. Every smile and nod felt like a _knife_. She wondered if this was how Cassian felt as he was raising the gun to Estevez’s head.

She wanted to slit Krennic’s throat, to find some way to stop the Death Star, but then her cover would be blown and this would have all been for nothing. The sale would go ahead, and thousands of immigrants would be gassed along the border. She couldn’t let that happen, not when she was so close to stopping it. God, why had her father done this? Why had he built such a heinous machine? She would have rather he let her be killed.

Dmitri began clawing and scratching at the windows again, beginning to cough. Suddenly, he collapsed, his hands red with blood.

“Finally,” Krennic said, shaking his head. “Consciousness goes first. Lucky bastard.”

Jyn watched, shell-shocked and still, and her eyes began to fill with tears as Dmitri began to shake and writhe. She blinked them back furiously, checking to make sure Krennic hadn’t seen. She could not cry. She would not cry, for Dmitri’s sake.

“There goes his nervous system,” Krennic narrated. Dmitri’s eyes went red, and bloody tears ran down his face. “Oh, and there’s the eyes!”

Jyn looked away, then, unable to stand it any longer. It gave her a chance to let her face crumble, if only for a moment. She quickly and carefully composed it before looking back at Krennic. None of this was real. Dmitri wasn’t here, and neither was Krennic. _She_ wasn’t even here, she was somewhere else, far, far away. It wasn’t even real.

“Not good with blood,” she mumbled, “not after that much tequila.”

“You look a little green, Liana,” he laughed.

Jyn felt like she was underwater in the next few moments, as she laughed and joked with Krennic, who’d just murdered a man in front of her eyes. She didn’t want to be here anymore. She wanted to run away and never think of Hacienda Rosales again. She wanted to hide and never come out. Waves kept on crashing over her head, images of Dmitri’s eyes, bloodied and wide and feral, like an antelope being mauled by a lion. She couldn’t stop seeing Dmitri’s eyes.

She made her excuses as quickly as she could, saying that she’d drunk too much and didn’t feel well. She didn’t care if he believed her or not. She needed to get out.

Clammy with sweat and feeling ill, she stumbled out into the fresh air and gulped it down like she’d been drowning. The tears she’d been forcing down sprang out and leaked from her eyes without her permission. She gasped, shuddering, and bent down with her hands on her knees, trying to breathe. Dmitri’s eyes. His _eyes_.

She leaned over and puked, mainly bile, shaking violently as she did.

“Liana!” came a voice. She recognized it immediately as Melshi’s. He ran to her side, putting a steady hand on her back. “What’s happened? You cut contact. Will’s going mad. Sent me to find you.”

She was glad to see him. The stars that had looked so beautiful only an hour or so ago now looked cold and faraway. She looked at Melshi, unable to quite catch her breath.

“It works,” she said shakily, staring at him with eyes that felt fever-bright. “They’ve made it work, somehow.”

“So it’s true?” he asked in a horrified whisper.

She nodded, tears streaming down her face.

“Where’s C—where’s Will?” she asked, still trying to get her breath back. “I need to talk to him. I need to see him.”

“In his room,” Melshi answered. “I’ll go with you?”

“No, no,” Jyn said shakily, waving him off with an unconvincing gesture. “I’ll be fine. The air is—the air is doing me good.”

“Alright,” he replied, unsure.

“Thanks, Melshi,” she said, beginning to walk towards the house, taking pains to hide just how desperately she wanted to see Cassian. A sob was rising in her throat like a golf ball as she walked, and the second she turned the corner, she broke into a near-run. She needed to see him, he needed to know—

She was so tired of standing by and watching. She didn’t want to be in that fucking vent anymore. She couldn’t—she couldn’t stand it—not one second more—

Arriving at his door, she knocked impatiently, face creased into a desperate expression. She let out a few hiccupping little sobs, unable to stop them, searching for safety, for just a bit of safety.

Cassian opened the door a moment later, his expression wide-open. His hair was tousled, as if he’d run his hands through it in frustration, and his shirt unbuttoned at the top. He looked on-edge and wired as he took her in, and Jyn let the refuge of him sink in.

“What—” he began, eyes filled with concern. She cut him off by launching past him, desperately trying to stave off the heart-wrenching sob that was rising in her throat. He shut the door softly, and she could hear him moving warily towards her, unsure if his closeness was welcome.

Unable to stand it any longer, her chest heaved with a long-repressed sob, pain and anger and heartbreak pouring out of her in waves. He moved closer to her, so unsure of himself, and Jyn met him halfway and embraced him desperately. Though surprised at first, his arms quickly went to enfold her as she wept against the fine material of his black button-up. He felt solid, and strong, and _real_ , the only real thing, and she clutched at that sensation like a drowning woman. 

“I’m not—” she sobbed into his shoulder. “I’m _not_ apathetic.”

“Jyn, what happened?” he asked softly, stroking her back. “Did he hurt you? Are you hurt?”

“No, no,” Jyn cried, “no, he _killed_ him. He gassed a scientist, right in front of me.” Her face crumbled again and she leaned her forehead on Cassian’s shoulder, trying to get the vision of Dmitri’s eyes out of her head. “He thought I would—he thought I would _enjoy_ it, Cassian, and now his _eyes_ —his _eyes_ as he died—” She shook her head violently, still leaning on him. _“I’m not apathetic_ , Cassian, I’m not, I’m _not_.”

She didn’t know who she was trying to convince, whose forgiveness she was asking, but all she could think, on a loop, were those words.

“Shhh,” Cassian said gently. “I know.” His hand cradled her head softly as she sobbed into his shoulder. “I know. You don’t have to explain,” he said, “Not to me. Not to me.”

He eased them both slowly towards his bed, the only place to sit in his cramped little room. They sat, still entwined, and Cassian let her rest her head on his shoulder as he stroked her hair back gently. The tenderness in his touch was almost too much to bear.

“You’re okay,” he soothed. “You’re safe, now. I won’t let anything happen to you.”

 _Imagine that_ , she thought to herself. The person she’d once thought would be her undoing, the most likely cause of her demise, was now the sanctuary she ran to for safety.

They stayed like that for a long time, Jyn crying softly into his shoulder, Cassian murmuring gentle words to her. She couldn’t find any words besides _I’m not apathetic_ to explain how she felt, so she simply said nothing as she cried and cried. He didn’t seem to mind.

Twenty minutes later, with tired eyes, she explained to him what had happened.

“You were right not to stop it, Jyn,” Cassian said. “It probably was a test. He’d have killed you if you tried, and then we’d have no idea about the console, or the security system. Now we can access your father’s research, maybe even stop the sale.”

Jyn shook her head, still not convinced. “You didn’t see his eyes, Cassian. They had him caged like an animal, and there was blood pouring out of his eyes,” she said dully. “I don’t think I’ll ever get that out of my head.”

He stroked her hair out of her face. “I’m sorry,” he said quietly. “I’m so sorry.”

They were sitting on Cassian’s bed, side by side, the quiet of the desert surrounding them like a blanket. She was filled with a rush of affection that she’d didn’t know where to place. She’d been so wrong about him. Sitting here with him felt so right, so natural, that she wondered if they hadn’t somehow done this all before.

“You know,” she said haltingly, looking down at her hands. “I could’ve used someone like you when I was young, too.”

She felt his eyes flicker to her, felt his questioning gaze. She rubbed her thigh with her free hand compulsively, unsure why exactly she was revealing this, but knowing somehow that she must. It was like a beam of soft light, punching through grey storm clouds. All she could do was look up at the skies in wonder. _It was time_ , she thought. _He had to know_. She had to make him understand. It was time for him to know.

“When my mum was killed—” she blinked, hard, “—when Krennic had her killed, I was hiding in an air vent, watching.”

“ _Puta madre_ , Jyn,” Cassian breathed. He looked shocked, lost. If she touched him, she thought he might crumple into tiny pieces and blow away. “Why didn’t you say something? All this time— _Dios_ , Jyn.”

“They left, and I waited and waited,” she continued, desperate to get it all out. Cassian was watching her, wide-eyed and horrified. “I thought maybe they had forgotten about me.”

“You mean— Just like—” Cassian was saying, coming to the same conclusion she’d come to outside of El Paradiso: two halves of one whole. Connected over space and time by that one endless moment. It had been a one-way track, all this time.

She nodded sadly, taking his hand in hers protectively.

“What happened?” he asked quietly.

“It was hours,” she said. Something rose up in her chest, swirled in her stomach, black and oleaginous, breathless, burning. “I was a _child_ ,” she gritted out, tears rising hot in her eyes once again. “And they left me there, alone, for _hours_.” She shut her eyes against the ghost of how she’d felt, waiting in that dark little vent, like maybe she’d ceased to exist, like maybe no one would ever find her. Cassian’s hand in hers was like a living lifeline, grounding and safe. “Saw eventually came and got me out, but—” she stumbled, the words coming thick and fast, now, out of her control, “—but I could have used someone like you to come find me, to protect me—because I think I’m still—I’m still _there_ , somehow, just—just watching and waiting—waiting for my dad to come back and find me. But he never did. He never came back for me.”

And oh, there it was, at last: the truth, pallid and frail. Jyn felt emptied out, staring down at the floor. She’d never spoken any of those feelings out loud, and they sounded so stupid and pathetic now that she’d admitted to them. Rusted-over and past due. It was so many years ago, now.

Cassian shifted slightly closer to her. Jyn looked at him, then, and he was so, so close, his eyes liquid with concern and understanding.

“I’ve been trying to insulate myself—to will it away, but all this,” she gestured vaguely, “all this has just made me realize how _angry_ I am.” Was that what she was feeling? This bitter, terrible thing living restless in her? “I am so angry at my father, at Krennic, at Saw. I’m angry at _you_ ,” she said, looking at Cassian to find his face shift to surprise. “At the way you just—the way you seem to be able to see inside my thoughts…”

She trailed off at his expression. He was watching her patiently, his eyes glowing soft and hazy. He understood. She knew he understood.

“No, not angry,” she amended softly. “Afraid. Absolutely terrified.”

His eyes searched her face tenderly.

“I’m afraid,” she whispered. “And it makes me hurt other people, and hurt myself.” She looked down, thinking of the particularly cruel way she’d revealed to him that ICE was the Death Star buyer, of the awful things she’d said to him in Mexico City. “It makes me hurt _you_.”

“I don’t mind,” Cassian said, his voice rough with sincerity. “You can—you can take it out on me. Take it all out on me, I don’t mind.”

Jyn looked at him curiously, then, tears coming to her eyes.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” she whispered, like it was something to be ashamed of. They were so close, now, his body so close to hers, and she wasn’t sure when that had happened. “You don’t deserve it.”

Quietly, gently, he leaned his forehead against hers, eyes closed. The gesture was oddly grateful, Jyn thought. A gratefulness she hadn’t earned.

 _You don’t have to explain_ , he’d said. _Not to me._ He saw her, saw her more clearly than she did herself, moving about in her head as casually and easily as if it were his own flat.

So much had changed since the first night they’d met, when they circled each other so warily. They’d gone down without much of a fight. They’d been subdued. Disarmed. She thought of him, opening up that closet door in El Paradiso. Finally, someone had found her hiding spot.

***

Bodhi climbed into bed with her that night.

“I heard what happened,” he said quietly. “Are you okay?”

It was too dark to really see, so she felt for his hand and slipped her own into it. She wasn’t sure how to express how she was feeling to him, and she was afraid of what she had to say.

“Bodhi, I don’t—” she said haltingly, “I don’t know if my father,” her voice broke, “is the good guy in all this, Bodhi.” She choked on a little sob. “I always wanted him to be. I always thought he was.” Her voice dropped to a whisper. “But that _machine_ , it’s—it’s _evil_. I saw it turn a man inside-out.”

He squeezed her hand tightly, and let out a shuddering breath.

“I think you might be right, Jyn,” he replied quietly. She looked at him, and was just barely able to make out the line of his nose in the darkness. He was staring up at the ceiling blankly.

“I’m sorry, Bodhi,” she said. “I’m so sorry.”

“No, it’s—it’s my fault,” he said, turning on his side to face her, something pleading in his voice. “It’s my fault we’re here, I dragged you along even when you said it was too dangerous—”

“Bodhi, Bodhi,” she objected. “It’s a good thing I came. We have a chance to undo the harm he did. Maybe we were—meant to, somehow.”

“I want to help you,” he said. “Whatever you need, whatever Cassian needs. We need to stop Krennic.”

Jyn looked at her friend, and, in that moment, she knew that she would do whatever it took. She nodded once, and Bodhi did the same.

***

Jyn awoke groggily to loud pounding on the door.

“It’s Will, let me in,” came Cassian’s voice.

She looked around, confused. Bodhi had, at some point, returned to his own room, probably because Jyn was a kicker. Annoyed, clutching at her head, she had only just sat up when Cassian came bursting through the door.

“Get up,” he said, looking harried. He limped quickly over to her bathroom, looking as though he were about to have a heart attack. “Get your wig on, hurry.”

“What’s going on?” she demanded, following him as she hopped into a pair of jeans. He shoved her wig at her, and then slumped over her sink counter, rubbing at his stubble with an air of exhaustion, as she fished out her wig cap and pins. She glanced at him, worried, as she put it on.

“The girl in Calexico. She told her dad that a lady in a silver dress helped her,” he explained curtly. Jyn’s stomach dropped. “Somehow Carmelo found out, and he told Krennic. It’s all gone to…gone to…it’s gone to _la chingada_ , Jyn, I don’t know what Krennic’s going to do next.”

“Fuck,” she said. “ _Fuck_.”

She could sense the anxiety coming off of Cassian in waves. He was nearly vibrating with it, placing his hands in and out of his pockets, playing with the Tums wrapper in his pocket.

She had been so stupid, helping that girl. She had jeopardized everything. _Fuck, fuck, fuck_. But she couldn’t have just _left_ her to Los Chavas.

“I’m sorry, I should have been more careful—It was stupid of me—"

His eyes found hers, confused. “Don’t apologize,” he said. “It was the right thing to do.” He paused. “Here’s what we’ll do—you mind if I smoke?” he asked distractedly, to which Jyn replied with a quick nod. He took out his lighter and his cigarettes as he continued to speak. She began to put in her contacts. “We say you helped the girl, but we have no idea what happened to Jesús, okay? He’s dead, he can’t implicate us—” He paused to light his cigarette and took a long drag. “—and no one else saw anything.”

“Okay,” she said, nodding. “Okay, we can do that.” She turned to face him, toilette complete. “How do I look?”

His lips quirked into a small smile, and he tucked a tendril of blonde hair behind her ear. Everything seemed to slow in that moment, and she gazed up at him, spellbound.

“Good,” he said quietly, before snatching his hand back guiltily. He blinked, and then turned his attention back to her. “How are you feeling?”

She shrugged, honestly unsure what to make of the jumble of her feelings.

“Alright, I guess,” she replied, feeling shy for some reason.

They were suddenly interrupted by Krennic’s voice, bellowing “Liana!” throughout the house.

“Fuck,” Jyn said again, the reality of the situation smacking her in the face. “Get Bodhi to call Chirrut and Baze and tell them to come, now. They’re not too far away.”

Cassian nodded, and, with that, she headed downstairs. Krennic immediately cornered her in the landing, flanked by two of his bigger meatheads. Jyn had a feeling that this would not go as neatly as Cassian had hoped it would. He was watching from the head of the stairs, with Melshi and Bodhi standing nearby. It was imperative that they made it seem like she had no advance warning.

“Explain yourself!” Krennic thundered, ignoring her. Spittle flew from his mouth in his rage and Jyn grimaced.

“What are you talking about?” she said, all wide-eyed Liana.

“Why have I just had Carmelo call me up and tell me that a woman matching your description helped some shitty little brat run away from his men?”

“I helped a child return home to her father,” Jyn said, wide-eyed. “How was I supposed to know Los Chavas were in the business of hunting down little girls?” She winced, because that came out more arch than she’d intended.

It wasn’t lost on Krennic, and he glared at her. “I’ve given you a pass, Liana, I’ve _defended_ you, but this—this is one thing too many.”

“Yes, I helped her, but I _swear_ I didn’t know Los Chavas were after her,” Jyn said, playing at being repentant. “Why would I want to compromise our relationship with them?”

“You mean, after you compromised our relationship with Calexico?” Krennic asked dangerously. “I dunno, why _would_ you?”

“What are you implying?” Jyn asked lowly.

“I’m implying that maybe Estevez was not our leak,” Krennic replied, inching closer to her menacingly. “I’m implying that maybe _you_ killed Jesús.”

Jyn scoffed, sensing that she was losing ground more rapidly than she’d anticipated. “Don’t be ridic—”

“Boys, _get her_ ,” Krennic ordered, eyes chillingly blue.

She knew this moment. Last time it had ended in prison. This time it would end much, much worse, unless she did something. The two men advanced on her, and Jyn readied herself to put up a fight.

“Wait,” came Cassian’s voice from the head of the stairs. Everyone turned to look at him, including Jyn. The two guards took advantage of the distraction to grab her, and she struggled fruitlessly against them. Cassian began to limp down the stairs slowly. “ _Wait_. She didn’t kill Jesús.”

Jyn stopped struggling and whipped her head around to look at Cassian again. In alarm, she tried to communicate _What the fuck are you doing?_ with only her eyes, but he ignored her.

“I did,” Cassian said, nonchalant as you please, stepping down onto the landing. Jyn’s eyes went wide. _What the fuck was he doing?!_

“Be _very_ careful, here, Will,” Krennic said. “I know she’s a lovely piece, but let’s not throw everything away. I don’t think you understand what you’re doing.”

Cassian smirked, all Will, and laughed. “ _Cabrón_ , it’s you that doesn’t understand,” he said.

Rage flashed across Krennic’s face. Jyn watched, thinking that this scene was horribly like the one that preceded Estevez’s death. Bodhi and Melshi were still at the top of the stairs, with matching expressions of confusion and incredulity.

“Enlighten me, then,” Krennic said drolly.

“You really think _Liana_ is the mole?” Cassian laughed. “ _No mames_ , Krennic. You’re not thinking. We knew there was a leak long before Liana arrived.”

“How do you explain the fuck-up in Calexico, then? The break-in? Jesús? Who else—?” Krennic’s eyes widened, and he looked at Cassian in genuine alarm.

Cassian smirked. “Now you’re getting it,” he said, placing a hand in his pocket nonchalantly. Cassian jerked his chin over to Jyn, who was watching with stunned, stupefied disbelief. “I used her. I had her stage the break-in, knowing that Estevez would take the fall. I knew Estrada’s boys would try something, and I didn’t exactly _discourage_ them. I told her to get the girl out, too.”

“He’s lying,” Jyn gritted out, trying to pull away from the guards once again, trying to take the focus away from Cassian. She couldn’t let him do this. “It was all me.”

“Shut that bitch up,” Krennic said, not even bothering to look in her direction. One of the guards backhanded her, _hard_. She reeled backward for a second, only faintly registering Bodhi’s shout of protest.

Cassian’s eyes flicked over to her. Her head hung down dully, hot blood tricking slowly down her temple, as she attempted to recover.

“Leave her out of it. She’s innocent in all this,” he said simply.

“No,” she said, head throbbing viciously. “ _No_.”

She hardly knew who she was addressing. Anyone, she supposed, that would listen. But the truth was this: Cassian’s story made way more sense than Jyn’s. There had been a mole before Liana arrived. He’d played his ace, and played it so well that Jyn could only watch helplessly. Didn’t he realize that they were going to kill him? Didn’t he realize that the whole operation would be compromised, and the sale would go on?

“Let me get this straight,” Krennic said, ignoring Jyn’s desperate pleas and playing puzzled. “You set Liana up as a fall guy, but then you don’t let her fall when the time comes?” He narrowed his eyes to two serpentine slits. “Getting soft in your old age, Will?”

Cassian quirked a soft little smile, then, and glanced at Jyn. He looked like himself again. “Maybe,” he said quietly.

Krennic stared at Cassian for a second, eyes ablaze. “Take him to the warehouse.”

Two other men went to Cassian, who allowed them to grab him without protest. His eyes flared momentarily in panic, and then dimmed. He wouldn’t let them see.

“No!” Jyn shouted. “ _Don’t touch him_.” She lunged, bucking and snarling, but she couldn’t break free. She wanted to shelter him, to place her body in front of his, around his, until everything else went away. “Let me— _go_!”

“Melshi, stop her,” Krennic said, with an air of mild annoyance. Melshi obeyed immediately, clearly trying to preserve his own cover. The two guards that had been on Jyn traded places with Melshi, who grimaced at her apologetically.

“Don’t you fucking touch him,” she hissed from behind Melshi.

“It’s okay,” Cassian was saying, looking at her steadily. “It’s okay, _mi amor_ , it’s over.”

Jyn blinked, unable to process everything that was going on. This couldn’t be happening. She had just found him. She had only just found him. One of the guards kicked the back of Cassian’s bad knee, making him fall to the floor with a pained grunt.

“ _Pinche mierde_ ,” Cassian swore, face contorted in pain.

Unable to stand back and _watch_ , Jyn tried to push past Melshi, but he held on to her firmly. “Don’t,” he muttered to her.

“Melshi, what—” she protested.

“Liana,” he said firmly and loudly. “It was all a lie. I know how you felt about him, but it was _all a lie_.”

Jyn knew he was playing for the cameras, trying to remind her of the long game, but part of her felt so betrayed by his words. He seemed to see it in her eyes, and gave her a little wink.

“Melshi, watch Liana and her little friend,” Krennic ordered.

“Aye, sir.”

They were dragging Cassian out the door, and he didn’t resist. He was going to die, he was going to _die,_ why wasn’t he _resisting_ —

“We’ll see what he knows,” Krennic said to his men, moving past Jyn and Melshi behind his men. “Kneecap the other leg if you have to.”  
At those words, Jyn launched herself forward, only for Melshi to grab her and haul her back. The front door shut behind them, leaving a deafening silence.

“No,” Jyn said, her voice hoarse from shouting. She fell to her knees. “No.”

She began to cry, helplessly, fully understanding the scope of what Cassian had just done. He’d sacrificed himself for her, sacrificed his _mission_ for her, which she knew meant more to him than his own life. Krennic would never trust her, or Bodhi, for that matter, again. He might reconsider his apparent trust of Melshi. Cassian had been right when he’d said it was over. All these years, and they’d finally found their way to each other, and—and now it was done. It hit her like a punch in the gut.

“No, no, no,” she groaned. She couldn’t breathe. She was being suffocated. “What the _fuck_ are you doing, Melshi?

“Trying to save your life,” he replied impatiently.

What did her life matter _now_? They were going to hurt him, to torture him, what the fuck did her life matter now? This couldn’t be happening. This wasn’t happening.

Bodhi crouched down next to her, but she barely noticed him, too busy staring down at her hands. _Mi amor_ , Cassian had called her. What had that meant? Part of their cover, obviously, explaining why Will would sacrifice himself for Liana, but it was echoing around in her head like a prayer.

She was on her knees, and her face felt hot and sore, smeared with blood, and she couldn’t stop the tears rolling down her face, but, despite all that, she knew what she had to do.

“Melshi, call Esso,” she said, holding her cheek. She looked up. “Do you have any idea where they might be taking him?”

“No, but I can try to find out,” he said.

“Bodhi, get on to Chirrut and Baze to follow any car that comes out of the hacienda’s drive,” Jyn ordered, getting to her feet. Bodhi nodded, and immediately whipped out his burner to text them. She turned to Melshi. “We have to get him out before they—before they—” She blinked once, hard. “And we need to get the formula before Krennic returns.”

“Are you mad, Jyn?” Melshi said. “No _way_.”

She swirled on him. “And why not? Cassian just—”

“You think they’ll let you get anywhere _near_ that console? The entire lab is locked down tighter than a nun’s cunt. If this operation has any hope of surviving, and you know that’s what Cass would want, you and Bodhi need to _stay put_.”

Jyn clenched her fists, and opened her mouth to reply, but she was cut off by Bodhi’s quiet, “He’s right, Jyn.”

“Krennic will never trust me again,” she said.

“I know,” said Melshi, “but he still trusts me, and maybe Bodhi. If we can make sure it stays that way, we might be able to salvage the op and, more importantly, keep you from being shot in the head.”

“Besides, when Cassian gets back, he’ll kill you if you’ve tried anything,” Bodhi said.

 _When Cassian gets back._ Shutting her eyes, jaw clenched, Jyn nodded reluctantly. “Fine,” she said weakly. “Fine. But we get him back.”

She wouldn’t abandon him. When everyone else had gone, when the whole world had forgotten about her, he’d stayed. This, she thought again, was one-way track. She’d follow it all the way. There was no going back. She’d do whatever it took. 

***

Time passed slowly. Jyn paced her room, which was serving as her and Bodhi’s prison for the time being. The gash along her temple had finally stopped bleeding. Melshi had secretly gotten a message out to the CIA, and Chirrut and Baze had been following the car with Cassian in it when they last checked in.

“He’ll be okay,” Bodhi said for the twentieth time. “I think Esso would rather die than let anything happen to him.”

Melshi entered the room a moment later, shutting the door carefully behind him. Jyn and Bodhi looked at him expectantly, with wide eyes.

“They’ve got him,” he said, breaking into a grin. Jyn was overwhelmed by a wave of relief. She almost felt dizzy with it. “He’s okay, a few cuts and bruises, but he’s okay.”

“He’s okay,” she repeated dully, feeling oddly like she was underwater. “He’s okay?”

Bodhi hugged her, grinning, and she gripped at his arms absently.

Melshi nodded.

“Thank Christ,” she said, finally letting herself smile. “Thank _fuck_.”

“Where is he?” Bodhi asked.

“Can I see him?”

“Aye, aye, but you’ve to wait until nightfall,” Melshi said. He seemed to have anticipated her desire to see Cassian. “I’ll cover for you.”

“Thank you, Melshi,” she said quietly.

Melshi smiled. “So you know, the CIA’s not best pleased with him,” he said. “I’m sure he must at least suspect it, so—if you could let him know I’m fighting his corner?”

“Of course,” she nodded.

A few hours later, Jyn arrived at the CIA safehouse and followed Melshi’s instructions to simply walk in through the back door. He’d snuck her out of Hacienda Rosales and procured her a car. Bodhi and he had created some elaborate lie that she was prostrate with betrayal and wouldn’t talk to anyone. She smiled as she thought about it, so grateful for their help.

Anxiety was bubbling in her chest as she entered the nondescript little house. She had no idea what state she’d find Cassian in, no idea what she was planning on saying to him. If he was okay, she’d fucking kill him for doing something so reckless. Maybe _he’d_ be angry with _her_ ; after all, she was the one who’d insisted on helping the girl. It didn’t matter, really. She just knew that she had to see him. The rest, she supposed, was details.

She heard voices by the front door. She recognized them as belonging to the suits, and crept closer, remembering Melshi’s words about the CIA. They were putting on their coats, just about ready to leave.

“I _knew_ he was compromised,” one said.

“We tried to warn Mothma.”

“We did.”

“Now the whole operation is compromised.”

“He’s _done_.”

“Oh, he’s done, alright.”

Jyn clomped closer. Their heads whipped around to her, startled and caught-out.

She raised her eyebrows.

One—Blue Tie—opened his mouth to speak.

“Don’t,” she said venomously. Blue Tie’s jaw snapped shut. “Just tell me where he is.”

Red Tie pointed wordlessly to a door situated down a poorly carpeted hallway.

“Fucking pricks,” she muttered, heading towards it. She heard them exit, speaking lowly to each other.

When she opened the door, she found Cassian sitting on a tattered-looking brown couch, leaning over an ashtray with a lit cigarette in his hand. He looked at her, startled. He had a butterflied gash on his right temple, and his wrists were encircled by what looked like very nasty rope burn. Jyn was so relieved to see him that she just stood there a moment, frozen and mute.

“Jyn,” he said, putting his cigarette out and getting up. He looked exhausted. His stance was slightly off, and Jyn imagined his leg must still be sore. “What are you doing here? Are you okay?”

She lurched forward, desperate to feel him, to feel that he was alright. She embraced him tightly, and she could feel his surprise before he relaxed and wrapped his arms around her in turn. He felt warm, and solid, and she wanted so badly to have the power to get him out of this situation, to keep him safe and whole. Closing her eyes, she sank further into the embrace, the immediately recognizable smell of tobacco and citrus crowding her senses, the tickle of his stubble on the side of her face. He was so familiar, now, and so dear to her.

She felt him inhale deeply, hands flexing where they rested on her back. Eyes squeezed shut against the rising tide of tears, she buried her face in his neck.

“I—” she tried, choking slightly on her words, “I had to see you. I had to make sure you were alright.”

Reluctantly, she began to extract herself from his arms, wanting to see his eyes again. He was gazing at her with such softness.

“Sit, sit,” she said, trying to her hide how choked up she was.

He listened, and his hand reached out and grabbed hers. She knelt down in front of the couch, beside him, so that her shoulder was about level with his knee. Staring at his abused wrists, she let out a shuddering breath. Tears stung at her eyes. He must have been so terrified.

“What did they do to you?” she asked tearily, clutching at his hand. “Did they hurt you?”

“No, no,” he said, airily, as if she were ridiculous for even asking. “I’m fine.”

She shook her head, staring at his hand in her own. “This is all my fault,” she said, voice tight with emotion.

“Jyn, look at me,” he said gently, tilting her chin up with a soft hand. His eyes were glowing, all warm brown tea, soft depths, and she felt something wild, something like _longing_ , like hunger and satisfaction all at once. She wanted—she wanted all the softness and the sharpness and dark-eyed reserve of him. She wanted to pad his path with soft grass and flowers and velvet ease. She wanted to say all this, but all she could do was gaze up at him, feeling blown open and helpless. “I’m safe,” he said.

 _Yes_ , she thought, something oddly possessive blooming in her, _yes, you are_. You are safe, and I will keep you that way. I will keep you safe.

Unable to help herself, she stroked her hand along the stubble of his cheek. His eyes fluttered minutely at her touch.

“What were you thinking?” she asked quietly, taking her hand away.

Some complicated emotion flashed across his face, and Jyn couldn’t help but remember the days when he had refused her even that brief glimpse into his mind. Now, now, they were so entwined it was like looking in a mirror.

He clutched at her hand with both of his. “Jyn, you must—” he began, looking down, voice tight with emotion, “You must know that I would do anything for you.” He looked at her again, expression almost pained, and his eyes were shining with tears. “You must know that.”

Jyn felt like the room was tilting on its axis. _Anything for you_ , he’d said. _Mi amor. Es todo que yo necesito_. What had it meant—when she’d run to him last night, desperate to see him, to make sure he understood? When she’d told him everything, things she’d barely been able to admit to herself? Her insides felt jagged and jumbled, but somehow _bright_ , blindingly bright. There were no words to explain it, but it was there, glowing, aching and beautiful.

“Oh, Cassian…” she murmured softly, closing her eyes like one leaning towards the warmth of the sun. What, she wondered, was the point of running anymore? Fighting it had always been futile. He’d afforded her no path of retreat, from the very start. Everywhere she turned—everywhere she looked—

Then, Cassian said, as if compelled, “There is something, something so _raw_ about you, so sharp, but still—still so _gentle_.” He stopped, baffled. “Jyn, you—you must know—"

There was so much that she wanted to say, so much that he needed to hear— _sometimes_ , she wanted to say, _sometimes I think that we have done all this before_ — _I have dreams at night_ , she wanted to say, _where the sky is on fire and the sand is melting below our feet and your hand is in my hand_ —but she had never learned how.

So she simply took his hand, turned it so his palm was up, and kissed the red of his wrists with shaking lips. He exhaled sharply, chest shuddering with breath. Unable to even look him in the eye, she repeated the process with his other hand.

He bent down over her, brushing a thumb across her cheekbone with his free hand just as she braved a glance up. Their foreheads pressed together, both their eyes fluttering shut at the overwhelming closeness. His hand moved to softly cradle her neck, his breath stuttering sweet across her lips. Jyn felt that, for one breathless moment, time had stopped: she and Cassian arching tenderly toward each other in one eternal, fleeting moment, just once and yet always. All she knew was the warmth and steadiness of his hands on her skin. She glanced her nose along his, and he rewarded her with a smile and an amused little huff.

Cassian kissed her then, like they were lovers, like they’d been lovers forever, his lips warm and gentle and surprisingly soft. It was slow and sweet, and Cassian’s free hand shook minutely as he brushed her hair behind her ear. She had run one hand up the length of his thigh, the other resting on his mangled knee.

Jyn quickly took control, holding Cassian’s jaw softly as she deepened the kiss. She rose to sit next to him, half on top of him, on the couch, drunk and dazed with the feeling of his lips on hers. Again it felt like the whole world was tilting on its axis, every word they’d ever spoken to each other overwritten by this wordless moment. When she ran her hands through his hair, he let out a soft little wounded noise. Desperate to get closer, to go deeper, she licked wet and plush into his mouth, using blunt nails to scratch at his stubble. She felt heat like a wildfire rise along her skin, like he’d struck a match and sat back to watch her burn. He was remarkably languid, letting Jyn take whatever she wanted, get closer, kiss deeper, go further. It made her feel electric, the way he seemed to be trusting her the reins, this strange, untrusting man.

She moved to his jaw, his neck, his ear, soft and slow, wondering if maybe she was rushing him. But his skin was so inviting, and he smelled gorgeous, and his hair was so soft under her fingers.

“Jyn,” he moaned quietly. “ _Dios_ , Jyn.”

She took this as permission to continue, using her teeth to gently worry a spot she rather liked on his jaw while she began to untuck his shirt with careful hands.

His own hands, electric-hot, were busy roaming under her shirt, across her stomach, down her hips. He tilted her face up to his lips, kissing her so thoroughly that her hands faltered at the buttons of his shirt. She felt momentarily lost, floundering in waves that wouldn’t stop coming.

“Jyn,” he murmured, nuzzling her neck, “Oh, Jyn. You have no idea how long I’ve wanted you.”

Jyn moaned at the feel of his stubble on the tender skin of her neck. It was so good to be close to him, to finally be close to him.

As he mouthed at her neck, she grinned and asked breathily, “Was it the silver dress?”

He groaned theatrically into the crux of her neck, and she laughed in reply.

“I can go get it if you like,” she said, entwining her hands in his hair as he bit at her collarbone experimentally.

He looked up, then, so their lips were only a breath apart, stroking her cheek with his thumb. “No,” he said, his eyes tracking over his face, “No. I don’t want Liana, Jyn.”

“Good,” she said mischievously, not letting on how oddly touching she found his distinction. “Because I don’t want Will.” She smiled, and placed a soft little kiss on the corner of his mouth. He laughed, glancing his nose along her own, and kissing her softly. Jyn swung her legs over his lap. “I want you,” she said quietly. “Please.”

He jolted into action at her words, looking at her like he was lost, and beginning to work at her boots. Meanwhile, she pulled off her t-shirt and undid her bra as he got one boot off and began to work at the other.

“ _Chingada madre_ ,” he muttered, tugging at the laces distractedly before abandoning the project for the pleased smirk she was giving him. He kissed her again, letting his hands, delightfully rough and warm against her skin, fondle her tits gently. Her breath hitched at the feeling, and she was disappointed when he returned to her remaining boot. Finally untangling the laces, he pulled it off and threw it, uncaring, across the room.

She giggled, welcoming him back as he shifted on top of her, kissing her neck, mouth his way down her chest, until finally, _finally_ , taking a nipple into his mouth. Arching under him, she ran her hands through his hair again and again. Soft moans were pouring out of her mouth.

“Yeah,” she said breathily, “oh, Cass—yeah, yeah.”

He would periodically glance up at her, but stayed intensely focused on what he was doing, rolling her other nipple between his fingers, laving his tongue gently on her skin, rubbing the sensitive skin under her tits. She felt her cunt getting wet as the sensations were layered and layered, soft and firm and smooth and warm.

She ought to have known he would be like this in bed. Applying that laser focus, that utter devotion that left him with circles under his eyes, to _her_. The thought alone made her shiver. She should have known, ever since El Paradiso, ever since she first laid eyes on him.

“Oh, Cassian,” she was murmuring, hands in his hair. She tugged it gently, wanting to kiss him again, and he moved up her body to worry her neck. Jyn caught him and pulled him up after a moment, kissing him gently, gratefully, before deepening it. He seemed to melt into her, running his hands over her body feverishly. Jyn felt the heat rising around them, the kiss turning plush and wet and slow.

“Is there a bed?” she asked, with a tone that said, _Please tell me there is a bed._

He nodded, getting to his feet with a slightly dazed expression. Jyn had only her trousers on, and he was still fully clothed besides his shoes. Grinning, she held his hand, letting him take her in the direction of a door off to one side, which she assumed led to the bedroom.

She muscled him gently onto the bed, where he sat down. She didn’t want to put any more stress on his knee. He grabbed at her, mouthing at her stomach and opening her trousers. Gently, she stopped him, and pushed her trousers down with her own trembling hands. Cassian sat there, a look of quiet disbelief on his face as he gazed up at her. She began to unbutton his shirt.

“You know,” she said shyly, “I’ve wanted you for a long time too.”

His face shifted to surprise. Jyn ignored it in favor of kneeling down in front of him, and running her hands along his shoulders, down the wiry muscle of his stomach. She mouthed at his skin softly, loving the way his muscles contracted and shifted under her touch. His hands floated, almost afraid to touch, somewhere around her shoulders. He cooperated when she moved to push his shirt off his body.

“Since I heard you through the wall, that night in the motel,” she mused.

Jyn glanced up, hesitant. A shadow crossed over Cassian’s face. She knew he’d heard her with Melshi, but they’d never really discussed it.

“When you were with Melshi?” he asked.

She nodded. “I heard you talking through the wall,” she said, embarrassment and arousal forming a feedback loop and causing her face and chest to flush. She ran her hands up and down his thighs in anxious arousal. Cassian’s curious expression compelled her to continue to speak. Getting a little breathless thinking of that night, of how he’d sounded, speaking Spanish lowly in the next room, she said, “I—I imagined you were there in the room, watching me.” He dragged a hand over his face, exhaling harshly. “Imagined that you were talking to me, telling me to—” She swallowed thickly, cutting herself off. Something dark and pleased crossed Cassian’s features, and his chest rose and fell erratically. “I was so angry at you,” she continued, breathless, “because even when I was with someone else, I couldn’t get you out of my head.”

Cassian simply said, “Good.” He leaned down and kissed her full on the mouth, searing and just a little possessive. Stunned, and fucking _wet_ , she kissed him back helplessly.

As they broke away, she palmed at his cock through his pants, and the way his breath hitched hit her like a punch in the gut. He was hard, and she shivered at the thought of him inside her.

“All I want is to make you feel good,” she said. The words were coming out of her mouth, unbidden. She hardly knew what she was saying. “I want you to know—Let me show you,” she begged quietly. “Let me show you.”

“You don’t have to—” he began to say, but she silenced him with a quick peck to his lips.

“I want to, please,” she murmured, working at his belt. “Please, let me.”

“I— _Carajo_ , Jyn,” he said, shifting slightly and running a hand through his hair in an endearing move. “Please, anything you want, please.”

Warmth rushed to her cunt at the rough desperation in his voice. She licked her lips, looking up at him. He was panting, eyes hooded, looking down at her with a wolfish expression. 

Breathing heavily, she dragged his trousers down and off his body.

“Jyn—” he said sharply, just a moment too late.

His injured leg listed slightly in one direction. A large, neat scar ran down the front of it, from some sort of reconstructive surgery, no doubt. All of the surrounding skin, however, was pocked and mottled, warped with scar tissue. It looked _painful_ , even healed.

“Oh, _Cassian_ ,” she said softly, unable to help herself. Tears rose in her throat. She looked up at him, eyes wide and apologetic. “Sorry, I wasn’t thinking—”

“No, I—I forgot to say—”

Something fierce and protective rose up in her at the tone of his voice: so unsure, so tired. They had almost hurt him _again_. This had almost happened to him again, when he had already suffered so much. Her brow crumpled a bit as she thought about it. _It wasn’t your fault_ , she wanted to say. _None of it was your fault._

“It’s alright, Jyn,” he said quietly, touching her face softly. “It’s alright.”

She exhaled harshly, trying to refocus on the moment. She wanted this to be about him. She wanted—she wanted to make him feel good.

“Would it be okay if I still,” she swallowed, “if I still touched you?”

Was it insensitive of her? Would he prefer not to, now that she had seen this? She hoped not. She’d wanted him, wanted him _badly_ , every part of him, for so long now.

“You still…want to?” he asked cautiously.

“Yes,” she said, a touch more eager than she’d intended. “Yeah.” She swallowed. “Very badly.”

He reached out a hand, soft and almost trembling, to trace her lips with his thumb. He nodded, and she smiled up at him in response.

Carefully, but aching to see him, she removed his briefs. His cock bobbed gently between his legs when she took it out, hard and blood-hot, jutting out from a thatch of dark hair. Fuck, he was gorgeous. She dragged her nails up his thighs, making him hiss softly. Desire, dark and hot and humid, swam through her blood sluggishly.

“Fuck,” she breathed, letting her breath puff over his cock. He shivered, and swallowed thickly. Getting her hands on him, she licked up his length slowly. Jesus Christ. He was all salt and sweat and skin, and the taste of him made her rub her cunt where she sat on her own ankles, desperate for friction.

“ _Madre de_ _dios_ , Jyn,” he murmured, bringing his hands to her head gently.

She gradually worked him into her mouth, until she’d taken as much of him as she could manage. He was grunting quietly, murmuring in Spanish to her, letting the strands of her hair slip through his fingers like water. She whimpered at the sensation of him in her mouth, thick and hot and wonderful, altogether too much.

“Ay, Jyn,” he moaned, his hips lifting from the cushions slightly. She grinned and pulled away, looking up at him as she dragged her tongue along his cock and lazily sucked him down once again. His eyes were squeezed shut, his mouth open with pained pleasure. As she continued to suck his cock, he moved his hands from her head to the bedsheet, where he clutched at the sheets. He began to thrust up gently, and the _noises_ he was making—

“ _Para_ , _para_ , Jyn, stop, wait,” he said desperately.

Jyn immediately pulled off, eyes wide with concern. “What? What happened?”

He grabbed her by the shoulders, hauled her up against him, and laid her out on the bed before him. She yelped, startled, but was darkly pleased by it.

“Please—I— _quiero_ —” he was saying, much to Jyn’s confusion, muscling her backwards along the bed, his hands roamed all along her naked body. Jyn didn’t have the slightest clue what he was asking for, too spellbound by the press of his body along hers, and she figured it didn’t really matter. She’d give him whatever he wanted. She nodded frantically. Sitting up, eyes slightly manic, he dragged her pants down her legs, and then his hand travelled to the damp curls of her cunt as he mouthed at her tits softly.

“Jyn,” he murmured. “Jyn, _mi amor_.”

He swirled his fingers around her clit with startling precision, making her buck and bite off a quiet “Fuck!” Kissing his way down her body, he grabbed her thigh and licked a stripe along its length before mouthing his way back up to her cunt. Jyn jerked and moaned at the sensation of his hot wet tongue along the tender, pale skin of inner thigh. She felt slightly at sea, and all she could do is grunt in surprise as he bit at the flesh of her thigh. He looked up questioningly, and Jyn hurried to reassure him with a “Yeah, yeah, good, please.” His answering expression was equal parts arousal and relief, and he returned his attention to her cunt. He nosed along the dark hair there before his tongue came out to taste her again. She let out a breathless whine. He teasing her. A puff of hot breath along her cunt. Blunt fingernails along her outer thigh. The fucking man, Jyn thought, was trying to kill her. She didn’t know whether to spread her legs wider or clamp them shut around his head.

“Fuck, Cassian, _please_ ,” she moaned.

He simply glanced up at her once before he pressed the flat of his tongue against her, making her hands fly to his head.

“Oh,” she stuttered out. He continued to lick at her, swirling his tongue around her clit, sending sparks flying along her nerves. She shook and writhed against his face. Suddenly, he pressed his lips to her clit and _sucked_ , and Jyn threw her head back in a silent moan. Recovering, she looked down at Cassian, at her hands in his hair, and muttered, “Fuck, fuck, you’re so good, just like that, eat my cunt just like that.”

He gave her a heavy-lidded look in reply, pinning her hips down and redoubling his efforts. Her cunt throbbed as his mouth turned almost desperate, _hungry_ , sending currents of pure pleasure up her spine.

“So good,” she was saying, “So fucking good, I’m gonna come on your mouth, do you want that?”

He confirmed with a frantic little nod, not even pausing in his ministrations. His mouth hit her _perfectly_ , then, making the bubble of pressure and heat in her lower stomach rise and rise. “Right there, right there,” she murmured, holding his head in place and thrusting against his face. He groaned thickly, letting her use his mouth with apparent pleasure. The sound made Jyn’s toes curl and her stomach drop out in a sudden thrill of arousal.

“You’re so good, you make me feel so good, you’re gonna make me come, Cassian, please please,” she was murmuring a bit madly, unable to contain herself.

Her hips stuttered almost mechanically against his face and he continued to lick and mouth at her like a starving man.

“Oh—yeah—I—fucking—oh,” she sobbed, grabbing at his hair. His garbled moan against her cunt really set it off, and she came, shaking and trembling and thrusting against him. Cassian continued to eat her out through it, gentling his tongue as she began to twitch, oversensitized.

Jyn lay there, panting, as he drew gentle little circles on her clit.

“Cass,” she breathed. “ _Fuck_ , Cass.”

He licked his way up her body, his expression almost painfully open and earnest, and she kissed him deeply, her hands cradling his face reverently.

“You’re so good,” she murmured against his lips. “You’re so good to me.”

His lips parted at that, breathing going shallow and pupils dilated. She rolled them over, and he spread his arms wide, surrendering, grabbing at the sheets as Jyn once more took control. 

“Let me touch you,” she said, returning to his cock, blood-hot and heavy, with an air of desperation. “Let me make you feel good.”

“Oh, please,” he begged quietly.

“You’ve been so good to me,” she whispered into his ear. He moaned helplessly. Spitting into her palm, she wrapped her hand around his cock and began to pump. He was already close, she could taste it. “You’ve done so much for me. How can I ever repay you?”

“You don’t…you don’t…” he said, looking pained.

“No one’s ever made me feel like that,” she murmured, pausing to mouth and bite along his jaw. His eyes fluttered beautifully as his hips began to thrust up into her hand. “No one’s ever been so good to me.”

“ _Chingada madre_ ,” he grit out.

“Come on, darling, sweetheart,” she said, “Come for me, just for me, you’re so good for me.”

She sped her hand up and sucked hard at his pulse point. He jerked and grunted, cum roping over her fist as he came. Jyn grinned, swirling her thumb lazily around the tip of his cock. He shivered, gathering her close to him and pressing a kiss against her sweaty forehead. She snuggled into him and closed her eyes, breathing heavily.

“Jesus, Jyn,” Cassian said, dazed.

She laughed, and pressed a kiss into his chest, his collarbone, his neck. Her hand was splayed possessively over him. They laid side-by-side, curled up against each other, and fell asleep, too exhausted and contented to do anything more.

***

Jyn awoke to the snick of a lighter. Cassian was sitting up in the bed, shirtless, peering out into the predawn haze and smoking a cigarette. His expression was thoughtful as he exhaled softly and leaned back against the bedhead. The thought that she could very happily just _watch_ him, watch him for hours, floated, soft and unhurried, through her mind. Perhaps if she were more awake it would have bothered her, but she simply acknowledged it as the truth and let it bob gently along.

His face was shaded by stubble, heavier than usual, and she longed to run her hand along the fine features it obscured, but didn’t dare disturb him. Suddenly she felt as though the bed were sinking very slowly under her, like hot molten sand, enveloping her body with its burning, silken embrace. But she didn’t wish to escape. Vaguely, she supposed that she should be terrified, but the muted pleasure of night turning slowly to day was far too intoxicating. She would stay, and she would watch him, until the world burned to cinders around her.

He tapped some ash off the end of his cigarette over the edge of the bed and onto the carpet. She smiled at his little rebellion. Fuck the CIA and fuck their carpet. They take his life, his leg, his marriage, his peace of mind—and they throw him out when they’re through. They said he was done? She’d be the fucking judge of that.

How like her father he was, she thought suddenly. Sacrificed to some greater agenda, good or ill. Did it even matter in the end? Whether you were an offering to the god of death or the god of new life? She knew that he was content to be the good little soldier in the service of king and country, or whatever the fuck it was he gave his allegiance to, but she wondered whether she could watch it happen.

Would she ever understand his motivation? Was there an altar Jyn would die on, gladly? She wasn’t sure. All she had ever known was survival; in the dog-eat-dog world of Jyn’s childhood, dying for a cause was a sentiment reserved for the weak. And the dead.

Cassian took a long drag and exhaled through his nose. He rubbed gently at the raw, red marks around his wrists. _Those should be bandaged_ , Jyn thought dully. She would have to do it for him later. Moving around sleepily, she gazed up at him. He didn’t even glance in her direction, too lost in thought. She wondered what he was thinking. She wanted, so badly, to get inside his mind. To see what he had seen. To wear his clothes and settle inside his skin. They had come from the same place, waiting helplessly as four walls closed in around them, but they had since traveled from there in entirely opposite directions. Everything Jyn had run away from, he had sprinted towards. How could they, she thought, be so similar and yet so completely opposite? Like images within a mirror.

“Why are you looking at me like that?”

Jyn, caught out, startled, and her eyes met Cassian’s. He was peering down at her curiously, a curl of smoke rising in the air around him.

Her own expression turned quizzical. “Like what?” she asked quietly.

“Sometimes—” he began, before stopping short. “Sometimes—the way you look at me—” His voice was colored by a sort of disbelieving wonder. He finally settled on, “What does it mean, when you look at me like that?”

Jyn gazed up at him a moment before shifting into a sitting position. She plucked his cigarette from his hands and took a deep drag, exhaling smoke through her nostrils.

“It means,” she said softly, using the convenient excuse of putting out the cigarette on the cheap wood of the nightstand to straddle Cassian, “that I want to know what you’re thinking.”

He blinked up at her, eyes wide and dark, hands immediately reaching for her hips. His cock stirred beneath her as she shifted forward, more or less shoving her tits in his face, to remove the pillows from behind his back. It left him flat out on the bed, Jyn straddling his hips and staring down at him with parted lips.

“It means,” she said, dipping her head to lick at the shell of his ear in a way that made his breath falter and his eyes flutter shut, “that I want to see how your mind works.”

She dragged blunt nails down his bare chest, and he arched beautifully under her touch. Perhaps she had revealed too much. Did it matter, she thought slightly hysterically, when his hands gripped at her hips like that? All she knew was the static haze of him, and the one desire that cut through it: _let me in, let me in, let me in_. The sight of him laid out beneath her was electric, making her cunt ache and throb. She was wet already, she thought a little desperately.

“I want to,” she stumbled, emotions swelling traitorously in her throat, “I want to know who you are.”

He was staring up at her with heavy-lidded eyes, chest heaving. She leaned down and kissed him on the mouth, and he immediately responded, running his hands down her back, brushing the sides of her tits, cupping the curve of her arse.

She rubbed her cunt along his thigh, feeling like a live wire, unable to control herself. Every movement felt like another step along a tightrope, but fuck if she didn’t want that free-wheeling moment of sheer exhilaration as she plummeted to her end.

“I—Cassian—” she tried, bewildered. She sat up for a better angle. Cassian splayed one large hand across her belly, keeping her in place, and used the other to rub at her cunt. Flames licked up her spine at his reverent touch and she curled over him as if in pain.

She suddenly became aware that she would come before she even managed to get him inside her. Mindful of his wrists, she grabbed his hands and pinned them next to his head. He exhaled shakily, warm breath puffing across her cheek. Something in his expression made her come back to herself.

“This okay?” she asked, a bit sheepishly.

He nodded quickly, chest heaving under her own.

Jyn removed her hands from his arms anyway and ran them through her hair, trying to get a hold of herself. Things had spun out of control very quickly. She leaned down to brush a gentle kiss against the butterflied wound on Cassian’s forehead, and his eyes shut as she did so.

“Please, Jyn,” he breathed, arching gently up against her so his erection rubbed against her arse. “Please.”

Her breath stuttered and shook at the raw desire in his expression. Arousal enveloped her in a sudden flash of heat, and she moved her mouth to his neck. Swallowing thickly, she kissed and bit at his skin, slightly musky with sweat and cologne. She sucked hard on his collarbone, well under where his shirts usually lay, making him swear harshly and buck up against her.

Satisfied, she sat up, panting, covered with a thin sheen of sweat, and reached behind her for his cock. His expression turned slightly pained as she fondled him gently. She then adjusted her position slightly and ran the length of him along the seam of her cunt, eyes fluttering shut. Cassian grunted, eyes going glassy, and Jyn’s own hands faltered at the feeling of his cock gliding along her wet cunt.

“Fuck, I’m so wet,” she said, voice high and reedy. “You make me feel like—you make me feel like I’m losing my mind.”

She repeated it a few times, whining softly, until Cassian’s knuckles, fisting the bedsheets, turned white. Breathing erratically, she used her hand to line his cock up against her entrance. Slowly, painstakingly slowly, she took him, and by the time he was fully seated, Jyn was shaking. Cassian was raking his hands through his hair, staring at where they were joined and muttering in Spanish.

“Fuck,” she bit out, feeling split open and wet and overwhelmed. The feel of him was unbelievable. “Oh, fuck, darling, Cassian, yes—”

Planting her hands on his chest, she began to move, shallow at first but gaining depth and fluidity as she went. Sounds were pouring out of her mouth as she fucked herself on his cock. He lay under her, thrusting up gently but letting her set the pace with a patience that, Jyn thought, bordered on religious.

“You like it—when I—when I fuck myself on you like that?” she asked, panting, trying to get a rise out of him, trying to get him to lose control.

“Hah,” he bit out, breathing harshly, abdominal muscles straining as he fought to keep himself still. “Yes, yes, take what you need, just like that, take what you need.”

“Cass—” she said, hips stuttering. Pleasure like a band was tightening between her hips, getting ready to snap, and Jyn continued to drive down relentlessly against Cassian. Skin hit skin, again again again, and she flashed hot and cold, lost in the waves of sensation. “You feel so—so fucking good—”

“ _Dime_ ,” Cassian begged. “ _Dime_.”

“Your cock is so good, you feel so fucking perfect, better than I even imagined, just—please—please—”

“Yes,” he said, nodding wildly. “Yes, yes—”

“—please—”

Jyn felt everything in her rise and contract, a wave about to crash, and a for a moment she thought she might cry. Why was he so far from her? Why wasn’t he closer? It grew and grew, like a bubble on the verge of bursting, a longing that felt like it was tearing her in two.

“Please—I want you—” she breathed, though it didn’t quite capture the enormity of what she was feeling. She grabbed at his hands, pushing back on his cock desperately, and placed them on her tits.

“You have me, Jyn,” he gasped, immediately rolling a nipple between his fingers and squeezing gently, “you have me, you have me.”

 _No_ , she thought, wildly, _no, she didn’t_. He didn’t understand. He didn’t _understand_. Frustrated, she grabbed at his arms and pulled him up so they were face to face.

“No, no, closer—” she sobbed, embracing him, cradling his face in her hands. “ _Acércate_.”

He looked at her a moment, eyes wild with understanding, and kissed her deeply. His good knee bent, giving him a bit of leverage to thrust up into her, and she began to make little wounded noises into his mouth as he began to fuck her.

“Yes, yes, like that,” she bit out, getting in closer, clinging onto him. “Just—just like that—fuck—I’m—”

“ _Sí, sí,_ _vente_ ,” he grunted, voice hoarse, into her ear. She had no idea what he was saying but, _fuck_ , it made her feel like her spine was melting. It was so good, so fucking good, and she was helpless to the way he was moving in her.

“Oh—Cass—yeah, yeah, ye—”

Her breathing went harsh and erratic, her hips bucking into his without rhythm, as a wave of sick-hot pleasure rose and overflowed in her. She screamed silently into his neck, hands scrabbling at his back. He held onto her, fucking her through it as she was engulfed over and over again, shaking and spasming in his arms.

She felt her cunt fluttering on his cock, and she began to mutter hoarsely into his ear and bite gently at his neck. “God, look at you,” she murmured, still slightly out of breath. “You’re so gorgeous, so good to me, you fuck me just how I like.” He grunted and shifted, slightly changing his angle so that Jyn startled and moaned. “Gonna make me come again,” she bit out, only half exaggerating as she arched against him. “You get me so wet, darling, you fuck me so good I can hardly stand it.”

“Jyn,” he said desperately. She clenched around his cock rhythmically, and he grunted and grimaced. “ _Carajo_.”

“How do you say,” Jyn asked breathlessly, “’come in my cunt, please’?”

He moaned like he’d been punched in the gut, and growled, “ _Puta madre,_ ” looking at her with hot eyes.

“Yeah, that’s it, come in me just like that, I want it, please,” she was murmuring, running her hands all over his body, scraping at his back with blunt nails.

He moaned helplessly, eyes squeezed shut, and began to thrust erratically into her. She hummed contentedly as she felt him cum inside her.

“Jyn,” he was murmuring as he came down, “Jyn, Jyn—”

He grabbed her and kissed her long and slow and languorous. They lowered themselves down to the bed softly, both sweaty and exhausted.

“Jesus Christ,” Jyn exhaled. Cassian laughed quietly in reply, gently pulling out.

He kissed her hair softly.

After a moment, he said, still breathing heavily, “Your Spanish is improving.”

“You really think so?” she asked. He hummed his confirmation. “I learned _acércate_ from a love song on the radio.”

“You’re learning Spanish through love songs?”

“Almost exclusively so,” she said thoughtfully.

He laughed gently.

“Another good one is _besame_ ,” Jyn said slyly.

He let out an amused little huff, and leaned down to kiss her. Jyn sighed gently into it, and then tucked her head under his chin.

Pressing a kiss to his chest, she murmured, “I’m so glad you’re okay.” He was cradling her body against his, and she relished the rise and fall of chest against her for a few moments. “ _Bésame, bésame mucho,” s_ he sang, lowly, lips against his skin, “ _como si fuera esta noche la ultima vez_.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> puta madre - equivalent to motherfucker I would say  
> (gone to) la chingada - gone to hell, gone to shit  
> para - stop  
> quiero - I want  
> acércate - come closer  
> dime - tell me  
> vente - come, in the sexual sense (you have no idea the embarrassing things I had to google to figure that one out)  
> bésame - kiss me
> 
> Jyn references/is singing the Spanish-language classic "Bésame Mucho" at the end. The most famous version is probably by Andrea Bocellli, but I myself prefer the bossa nova version by João Gilberto. Give it a listen! The lines she sings translate roughly to "Kiss me, kiss me again and again, as if this were to be our very last night."
> 
> A big, big thank you to everyone who has commented and left kudos, & thanks for reading!


	4. YO TE LLEVO HASTA LA NADA

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> chapter title translation: "hasta la nada" means, so far as I could tell, something like "into nothingness" or "into the abyss," making this phrase mean "I take you/I carry you into nothingness/into the abyss"
> 
> idk if people still do this, but a few songs really inspired me while I was writing: the title track obvs, "Gently Break It" by Beck Pete, "oh baby" by LCD Soundsystem, "Tyrant" by Kali Uchis (ft. Jorja Smith), and Rosalía's ENTIRE album El Mal Querer. oh and I almost forgot "enemy" by Charli XCX. STUNNING AND GORGEOUS.
> 
> a note on some of the endearments used this chapter: Cassian uses a few different words in this chapter (mi vida, mi amor, mi cielo, querida, cariño). They all, of course, have their literal meanings, but in English they would be akin to saying honey, darling, sweetheart, my love, etc. I had Cassian use mi cielo (lit. heaven) the most because of its connection to the skies and the stars. 
> 
> Ok, ok I'll shut up!! Without further ado: the last chapter!

Jyn awoke once again from a dream in which the ground was melting under feet, great chunks of it liquidating before her eyes. The bed was empty, but still slightly warm on Cassian’s side. She snuggled back in, prepared to go back to sleep, when she heard raised voices from the kitchen area. A few different men. The suits? Esso, definitely. And Cassian, trying and failing to keep his voice down. Not a good sign.

She stumbled into the bathroom and threw some water on her face before venturing into the kitchen. Everyone abruptly stopped talking when she walked in.

“What’s going on?”

Cassian stepped closer to her, but stopped himself abruptly. “Jyn, it’s—”

“These two fools want to take Krennic’s brat hostage,” Esso said, and there was little doubt as to his opinion about this plan in his tone.

“ _What?_ ” Jyn asked venomously, looking over at the suits with slitted eyes.

“She would make an excellent bargaining chip,” Blue Tie said.

“She’s a _child_ ,” Jyn said. Wide-eyed, she looked at each of the men standing in the kitchen, wondering why she was alone in making this point. Cassian was looking at his shoes studiously. After a pause during which they all ignored her, Esso began to speak.

“It’s a tactical _nightmare_ ,” he drawled. “97% of failure, and that’s just the abduction itself.”

“I’m sorry, am I hearing this right?” Jyn asked, her alarm growing. She didn’t understand why no one was seeing this. “You lot are supposed to be the good guys, yeah? You’re not supposed to be separating _children_ from their families!”

“When their family is Orson Krennic—” Cassian cut in, a hard edge in his tone, expression shuttered. 

Jyn turned on him, not believing what she was hearing. And from _Cassian_ , who she thought would be on her side with this? Who she thought was—

 _You hear that, Jyn? That’s the sound of the other shoe dropping_.

“Ramona’s father is a bad person, so, what is it, she’s expendable as well?” she asked, acid crawling bitter up her throat. “She’s just–collateral damage, then?”

He stepped closer to her, hands up in pacification, but she dodged him.

“No,” she said, voice hard. “No, I won’t allow it. I won’t allow you to hurt a little girl.”

She felt a bit like the walls were closing in, or maybe that was just her throat. How could they even be thinking of this? How could Cassian be supporting this? It was _wrong_. Ramona was just a child, and they all thought of her as a pawn in a chess game.

“She trusts you,” Red Tie said.

“Get fucked,” Jyn spat. She sat down on the couch and drew her knees up to her chin like a little kid, staring at the table in front of her. She had known this was going to happen. She’d fucking known all along.

“If you don’t do this, Miss Erso,” said Blue Tie, “I’m afraid we’ll have to pull funding from the team finding your father.”

Jyn’s eyes snapped to Blue Tie’s. “Are you blackmailing me?” she asked in a voice that was deadly quiet. “Are you _fucking blackmailing me_?”

Blue Tie blinked.

Jyn rose and walked over to him. She looked at him disdainfully, and said, “Eat. Shit.” She looked at Cassian. “Not a fucking word in my defense, eh?”

“Jyn,” he said, his voice impassive once again, “it’s more complicated—”

“Not really,” she cut in, shaking her head. “This is actually one of the few simple things in life. You don’t hurt kids.” She exhaled. “But what am I saying? I forgot who I’m talking to. Cassian ‘Orders are orders’ Andor,” she said mockingly, before turning on her heel and walking towards the bedroom. “I’m leaving.”

“The sale is _tomorrow_ , Jyn,” Cassian said, so quietly she nearly didn’t hear him, but so tight with emotion she could never have missed it. She very nearly turned back around at that, biting at her lip so hard that it hurt, but this was the one thing she couldn’t compromise on. She would—she would have done just about _anything_ —but not this. When she didn’t reply, busy gathering her things, Cassian followed her into the room. “Did you hear me? _Tomorrow_.”

She whirled on him. “I _heard you_ ,” she hissed. “And that’s why I’m going back to Hacienda Rosales to get that fucking formula.”

His eyes widened. “ _No mames_ , Jyn, you can’t be serious,” he said, exasperated.

“ _You_ can’t be serious,” she retorted, pulling her boots on. 

He looked down at his hands, the muscle in his jaw working. “You don’t know me as well as you think you do, then,” he said, voice tight.

Hot tears rose in her eyes. “Yeah,” she said weakly. “Yeah, I’m getting that.”

Cassian went to touch her, face drawn with emotion, but decided not to.

“Jyn, your _father_ ,” he said, a pleading note in his tone, changing tacks.

Yes. Her father. Jyn stopped to consider it.

There was the one she never met, the one who built weapons that killed people.

And there was the one that she remembered, who carried her on his shoulders, as tall as a skyscraper, and kissed her boo-boos all better when she fell. For him, Stardust was her nickname, not a chemical weapon. He had looked up at the sky and seen redemption instead of oblivion.

It was to him that she would be faithful, whether or not he was just a memory.

“He wouldn’t want me to do this,” she said quietly, eyes far away.

“And what is your plan, exactly?” Cassian asked, his voice turning frantic in a way that Jyn found darkly satisfying.

“I don’t _know_ ,” she said. “I don’t fucking _know_ , Cassian.”

His expression hardened. “Any action that compromises our operation _will_ be punished,” he said through his teeth.

“Oh, there he is!” Jyn said, grinning cruelly, mainly so that tears wouldn’t start running down her cheeks. “The _good little soldier_.” She gave him a jaunty little salute. “Like a wind-up toy.”

It was a direct hit. Cassian’s face fell, and he looked down, ashamed.

“This is our only chance,” he said lowly.

“No,” Jyn said, “No, it _isn’t_.” She paused, sighing impatiently. “Don’t you get it?” she asked. “The only reason your precious CIA is making you do this is because they don’t want to have to acknowledge that ICE is the buyer. They’re kidnapping a little girl to avoid the fucking _headlines_.” He looked pained, and she pressed her advantage. “Come with me,” she said. “Please, Cassian. _Come with me_.”

“You don’t _understand_ , Jyn,” he gritted out. His eyes were pleading. “The CIA is very unhappy with me, and I—I will never be anything more than this,” he said, pointing down at the ground with a raw desperation. “ _I will never be anything more than this_.”

She shook her head sadly. She didn’t know how to make him see that he had always been more than the things he’d done. That there was a chance at a new life.

He shut his eyes and exhaled harshly. “It’s what has to be done.”

 _Forgive yourself_ , she wanted to tell him. _Forgive yourself_ , _at long last._ Still as a statue, as if he thought that, if he didn’t move, she might stay, he gazed at her pleadingly. She stepped closer to him, and ran a hand tenderly down his face.

And with that, she left. He had gone somewhere she could not follow.

***

Blinking through tears, she returned to Hacienda Rosales. It was okay. It didn’t matter. She had seen this coming all along—no matter how sweetly he had kissed her, no matter how steadily he’d looked at her and said, _mi amor_ —she had expected, somewhere in the deepest part of her mind, that this would be how things ended. If any part of her had thought that Cassian would torch his life’s work for her, well, the less that was said about it, the better.

He had changed her, she thought, trying to hold off the sob that was rising in her chest at the thought. That much was true. He had set something in motion. But that didn’t mean his presence was necessary for her to see that change through. And it certainly didn’t mean that she would compromise her own ideals to keep him, either. They had gone as far as they could go together, and no further. It was okay.

 _It’s okay_ , she thought, and yet she had to pull the car over so she could sob silently into her hands.

Did it have to end like this? She had wanted more time, time to tend to and water this new kind of affection she’d felt blooming as she and Cassian had held each other close in the CIA safehouse. Time to get to know him outside of this pressure-forge of death and danger. Why did this fucking operation have to get away of that? Why did something, she wondered dully, always have to get in the way? Crash into her life like a fucking meteorite?

She supposed that it wouldn’t be her and Cassian if they weren’t on opposite sides of things in some way or other. Maybe they would be better off staying on their respective teams from now on, not muddying the waters by fraternizing. The thought made her desperately sad. She had trusted him. Really trusted him. He had been the only one who could understand all the places she’d been. The only one who could reach her, even as she pushed him away. He’d sacrificed himself willingly, putting his life and his life’s _work_ on the line to keep her safe. This situation wasn’t his fault; it was just the way things had to be. The reality that they were placed into. Neither of them had had any choice in this.

Bodhi and Melshi were already apprised of the situation by the time she arrived at Hacienda Rosales. They’d been covering for her, sending away any nosy visitors all morning. It was just inching up on ten o’clock when Melshi snuck her in through the servants’ entrance. Bodhi was waiting in her room when they arrived.

“Esso caught us up,” he said, looking over at Jyn with open concern. “How are you?”

“How’s Cassian?” Melshi asked tentatively.

Jyn sighed, and sat down on her bed, brow furrowed. “He’s fine,” she said. “They didn’t hurt him.” She paused, trying to weigh her words, trying to take inventory of her own emotions. “He’s going ahead with the CIA’s plan.”

Bodhi looked at her, eyes wide. He was trying to read how she felt about it, but she kept her face purposefully shuttered. It would be better if he didn’t know what had passed between her and Cassian. It would better if Jyn herself could just push it out of her mind. It was in the past, and she ought to leave it there.

 _You have me, Jyn. You have me_.

She blinked, and looked up.

“I won’t let them hurt her,” she said, keeping her voice even and calm. “I’d like your help, but I’d understand if you’d rather not get involved.”

“I’m with you, Jyn,” Bodhi said.

Her mouth twitched into something approaching a smile.

“Me, too,” Melshi said.

She nodded gratefully. She had to do what she had to do. _This_ , she thought to herself, _this is the altar I will die on._

***

Two hours later, they were with Chirrut and Baze in the little dive bar in Sonora where Jyn had visited. It felt like such a long time ago, she had reflected as she’d entered. She’d been, she supposed, a different person then.

It didn’t take them long to hammer out a basic plan, drinking tequila and cramming their mouths full of pork scratchings in a quiet booth in the back. Baze offered the use of the small arsenal of weapons he kept in the trunk of his minivan, while the only thing Chirrut saw fit to offer was his opinion that the Force was one with them, etc., etc. Jyn had her doubts, and, indeed, could even hear Esso’s tinny voice saying something about the chances of failure being overwhelming. She had the feeling that the others knew this, too, but were simply too kind to say so. It didn’t matter. She had chosen her course and would see it through until the end. A one-way track.

Nodding grimly, she confirmed the plan: they’d set up a distraction, fight their way to Krennic, drag him to the restricted area of KrenTech Labs which housed the Death Star, force him to access the terminal and hand over the formulas from Galen’s research, and send it the CIA’s encrypted server.

“What’s your exit plan?” Bodhi asked quietly, looking at his friends with wide eyes. He’d be manning the tech systems from afar.

“There isn’t one,” Jyn said, gripping her glass of tequila and staring at the table. She looked up at him. “When we get there, we’ll worry about it.”

“But, Jyn,” he said, alarmed. “Jyn, that’s _suicide!_ ”

“Actually,” came an obnoxious, posh voice, “the chances of surviving the most common form of suicide are actually _comfortably_ higher than your chances of escaping KrenTech alive.”

Jyn’s head whipped around, for wherever _that_ voice was, Cassian usually followed shortly behind. She wasn’t wrong, and couldn’t help the way her eyes tripped over him where he stood beside Agent Esso.

Cassian. Cassian had come back for her.

“And let’s not even talk about your chances of obtaining the formula,” Esso continued, sauntering over and sitting down. Cassian lit a cigarette and followed suit, easing his knee carefully into the booth.

“Boss!” Melshi said. Cassian exhaled, and smiled wryly at him.

“You found us,” Jyn said. Her lips felt almost numb.

_I want to know who you are._

His eyes were warm as he said, “Yes. Yes, I found you.”

“How?”

“Melshi,” he replied, glancing over at the Scot with a fond expression.

Jyn couldn’t help the grin that spread over her face.

“We brought some men with us,” Cassian said. “About fifteen. They volunteered.”

“Even you, Esso?” Jyn asked, grinning at him like a shark.

He merely rolled his eyes. “The only plan worse than yours was _theirs_.”

“Thank you for that vote of confidence.”

“My absolute and utter _pleasure_ , Miss Erso.”

They planned into the wee hours of the morning, eventually decamping to the shady motel so often frequented by the CIA officers. Exhausted, they’d all very quickly gone to bed, but Jyn had found Cassian outside smoking a cigarette when she’d gone to get ice.

She sidled up beside him quietly, following his eyes to the sky above. It looked infinite and terrifying, like a great maw set to maul the Earth below.

“You came back,” she said.

He looked exhausted and rumpled as he passed her the cigarette wordlessly, smoke rising around him. His expression, rueful and dark, spoke volumes.

“Yes,” he said placidly.

Jyn raised her eyebrows as she took a drag of his cigarette. Handing it back to him, she asked, “Why?”

She was tired of hedging, tired of dry-cleaning and codenames and smoke and fucking mirrors. She wanted him to answer her honestly, if only this once.

He turned his face to the stars, and exhaled a long stream of smoke before speaking. “My career, my marriage, my leg,” he listed quietly. He shook his head, baffled and looking small. “I could not stand to lose one more thing. Not one more thing.”

Jyn watched him carefully. He turned to her, and she could see that he was struggling to find the words to explain what he was thinking.

“I’m sorry,” he settled on. “I’m so sorry for not coming with you when you asked. You were right. Every time, you were right.” He looked down, ashamed. “I would’ve—I would’ve left that girl, Jyn. I would’ve left her, if you hadn’t been there.”

“It’s alright, Cassian. You’re here now,” Jyn said.

“No, it’s—I—I didn’t want to lose you, Jyn,” he said, voice breaking a bit. “I didn’t want to lose _myself_.” He paused to crush his cigarette under his shoe. “Since I met you, I feel—” he began, and tried again, “I feel like I can see myself clearly again. I’d forgotten what that felt like.”

And, oh, if she didn’t understand that feeling, standing there in her blonde wig and brown color contacts. He’d said something similar to her that first time they’d met, but then she hadn’t known him. Hadn’t had the landscape to place it in yet. She thought of that night, of how he loomed so large in her imagination from the moment she met him. She’d clocked him as a copper right away. Funny, that. Like she’d known who he was all along.

She placed their foreheads together gently “How could you lose me,” she murmured, “when you’re the one who found me?”

His eyes fluttered shut, his expression spasming briefly. He pressed his lips against her forehead, and Jyn felt encircled, and safe. His arms surrounded her like the walls of a shelter in a storm. “ _Mi cielo_ ,” he murmured on an exhale.

“It’s okay,” she said, wrapping her arms around his waist. “It’s okay. I understand.” She let herself soak him in, the warmth of him, the security of him, and exhaled deeply. “I understand.” Jyn smiled wryly. “We’re the same, you and me,” she said, all conspiracy. “Two of a kind.”

The connection they shared was bigger than just this life. She could feel it. They had been here before. A whole ocean in between them, entire galaxies, their lives suddenly converging after spending their entirety diverging: she knew that they had been there before. A thousand lifetimes, she’d loved him.

He stroked a strand of hair behind her ear, and murmured, “You look tired, _cariño._ You should get some sleep.”

They parted ways. Jyn was just happy to be together once again, even if there was a chance it would only be for a brief time. She clutched her necklace, and stared up at the night sky out her hotel window. This was some sort of redemption, she thought. A cosmic manipulation. A second chance.

***

Jyn, grim-faced, was lacing up her boots. Cassian was a quiet, grounding presence beside her. She had to resist the urge to steady herself by touching him. Looking at the steady, determined set of his brow, she finally understood how he’d been willing to sacrifice himself for it all.

“Melshi’s sounded the alarm and all the guards are with Ramona,” he said, eyes watchful. He talked like he were reporting to his superior, and the idea made her oddly hot under the collar. “They’re all focusing on getting her and Ximena out of the house. You should have fairly clear path to Krennic.”

“Good,” she said, not bothering to hide the anxiety in her voice. She’d drag Krennic out of the Hacienda after taking out his two personal guards while Cassian and the rest of the men were clearing a path through the lab, which would still be heavily guarded. Melshi would be her only ally in the house.

Cassian looked at her. “Be careful,” he said, and there was something pleading in his eyes. She had to clench her fist to keep from stroking his cheek. Instead she just nodded. This wasn’t the time. If she let herself be pulled in by him, she’d never be able to go through with this.

Trying to swallow the knot of nerves in her throat, she looked at her reflection in the rearview mirror. She’d thrown her contacts out, and she wasn’t wearing her wig. She’d been blanketed under disguise after disguise for so long, it was nice to just be herself. For once, for the first time in forever, everything felt _right_. Not good, not by a long fucking shot, but Jyn was, at long last, exactly where she was meant to be. With Cassian by her side.

She took a deep breath and entered Hacienda Rosales.

It was oddly quiet in the kitchen. Dusk was just breaking, and usually Ximena would be bustling around, shouting orders at the other workers.

“Status?” Bodhi crackled over the line.

“Kitchen clear. Heading towards the study,” she said lowly.

“Ramona in the process of being secured. Target is alone,” Melshi said. He was somewhere in the house, wherever Ramona was, she supposed.

“Waiting on your word,” Cassian said. They’d wait outside the lab until she had Krennic clear of the house.

Jyn moved quietly, carefully. She had the element of surprise for the moment. And yet it was still difficult to keep herself in check, relishing as she did the idea of Krennic’s face as he saw her true identity. The idea of having his blood on her hands, as his eyes sparked dully with recognition come too late, was frighteningly attractive. But there were more important things on the table than Jyn’s personal vengeance.

She crept closer to the study, screwing the silencer onto her gun. A quick peek around the corner told her that only one guard stood outside the door. It was positioned at the intersection of two hallways, so she was able to shoot him cleanly, and catch him before he fell. Taking a deep breath, she opened the door. Krennic was sitting at his desk, flanked by two guards. She had fired her weapon twice before their hands even twitched on their guns. They fell to the ground, and Krennic was staring at her with manic eyes.

The sheer _shock_ , the utter disbelief on his face, made something in Jyn’s chest curl up in delicious satisfaction, like a lion lazily licking its bloody paws clean. Finally. Finally. She would force him to see just what he had wrought.

“Not—not Galen’s little brat?” he asked, getting to his feet. His hubris was truly astonishing. She was aiming a gun at his him and he was speaking as though he were an estranged uncle newly rejoining the fold. _Snap his neck_ , some voice in her demanded. _Ask him where Galen is_.

Jyn was on him in a moment, gun held level, her face betraying nothing.

“Hands up,” she demanded, and he obeyed almost casually. She didn’t even bother to check him for weapons. He never did his own dirty work.

“I should have killed you when I killed your fucking mother,” he growled.

“You live and you learn. Now _walk_.”

He took a few slow steps, hands up, towards the door. Jyn followed him, gun at the ready. Her hands were oddly steady.

“What is it you want?” he asked, blasé. “If it’s money—oh, but it would be your dearest daddy, wouldn’t it? I can tell you where he is.”

“Shut up,” she snarled.

He half-turned to face her, delighted. “Oh, little Jynnie looking for her pa, is it?” He laughed. “Come on and tell your Uncle Orson, and please don’t be embarrassed if you cry.”

Jyn couldn’t help the little laugh that spilled out of her mouth. “Christ, you’re thick,” she said. “You really thought Liana would go for an ugly old bastard like you? Absolutely embarrassing, mate.”

He ignored her. “Who’s Will, really? I’m guessing you pussy-whipped him into doing your bidding.”

They were nearly down the hallway. No guards in sight.

“Better, I suppose, than blackmailing people into doing your bidding,” she drawled. “More pleasurable, at least.”

“Was gonna kneecap him,” he said easily. “He’d have been in a wheelchair. Would you have bathed him, helped him take a shit?” He didn’t wait for an answer, laughing at his own wit. “He was scared. Cold fish, that one, but I could tell. Probably worse the second time around, knowing what you’re in for.”

Jyn didn’t answer. They were nearly out the front door, and no one had so much as approached them.

“Fulcrum, we’re ready,” she said into her comms.

Dusk, soft and warm, enveloped them as they exited the house. They walked silently, gravel crunching under their feet, for a moment.

“When this is over,” Jyn said quietly, “I’m going to shove a gun behind _your_ knee, and I’m going to make you _beg_ him for mercy.” She cocked a head inquiringly, though she knew he couldn’t see her. “Tell me, from what you know of Will, do you think he’d be inclined to show it?”

He stumbled slightly as he walked, and she grinned.

“No, I don’t think so, either,” she said.

Shouts and gunfire began to bleed through the air. They were clearing a path through the lab for them.

“Do you have any idea,” she said, shoving the gun between his shoulder blades, “of the damage you’ve done? I reckon you must, but you simply don’t care.”

They entered the lab shortly after, winding their way up through the various levels slowly but surely. Cassian’s limp was worse than usual as he urgently made his way towards Jyn and her prisoner. They had just entered the restricted area.

“Jyn, are you okay?”

“Jyn!” Krennic exclaimed, with an air of eureka, “ _That_ was your name.”

Cassian pinned him with a dark stare, and Jyn wondered if, after all her self-control on the way over, Cassian might be the one to kill Krennic.

“I’m okay,” she said. “You?”

He simply nodded once. “The grunts don’t know about the Death Star, but I’m sure they’ll catch on shortly,” he said. “We don’t have much time before they begin to realize that what we want is _here_. Right now they’re spread too thin to do much of anything.”

“Good,” Jyn replied. “Let’s get moving.”

She shoved Krennic forward, towards the Death Star. The terminal was waiting, just down the hallway. Memories of the evening when she’d seen Dmitri die tugged like wild animals at her mind, but she just grit her teeth and tried to ignore them. Cassian was limping along beside her, gun at the ready.

“What’s all this for?” Krennic asked. “Not vengeance, surely, or I’d be dead already.”

“Maybe I want to see you suffer,” Jyn hissed.

Cassian’s eyes slid between the two of them watchfully.

“If you’re looking for some sort of closure, Jyn,” Krennic drawled, “therapy would have been _much_ easier.”

They arrived at the terminal and Jyn pushed him up to it. Cassian stood guard at the door.

Gun pointing at Krennic’s head, she said, “Access it.”

He turned to her with a bemused expression. “Why?” he asked. “If you’re just going to gas me after, the gun isn’t really much of a threat. I’d _prefer_ you shoot me, actually.”

Jyn scoffed. “If you think I’m going to use that fucking _thing_ —” She paused, and pushed the gun more insistently toward Krennic. “No. I’m not going to kill you. Not if you do what I ask.”

He looked at her curiously, but ultimately just shrugged and began to access the terminal. She watched him carefully as he went through the process, making sure he didn’t try anything untoward. When he was done, she grabbed him and handcuffed him to the railing beside the terminal.

“I _will_ , however,” Jyn said, tucking her gun in her pants and turning to the computer, “delight in imagining what will be done to you when you don’t deliver his weapon.”

Krennic laughed, baring his teeth. “You think you can stop this, Jyn?” he asked. “You’re _no one_. You’ll never make it out of here alive.”

As if to emphasize his point, Jyn heard shouts and gunshots ringing closer and closer. They didn’t have much time. She heard Cassian grunt, and fire off a round.

“Alright?” she yelled over, beginning to look through the files on the terminal.

“Yes, yes, I’m okay,” he said from the door. “Have you found it?”

He was beginning to get anxious. Jyn’s own heart was picking up, feeling as though she could hear the clock ticking in her ears. She kept on clicking through the files, but was having trouble finding anything about the formula. Bodhi had taught her how to look for encrypted data, but there must have been thousands of files on the computer.

“Not yet,” she answered unsteadily.

“What are you looking for?” Krennic asked lazily. He peered over, trying to see what she was doing. “Oh, you want the _formula_?” He laughed. “Oh, Jyn—by the time you synthesize an antidote, I’ll have been paid, and Vader will have _used_ it already. You’re going to die for _nothing_.”

“Shut _up_ ,” Jyn said, feeling her throat closing up. Krennic wasn’t trustworthy, she reminded herself. He was lying.

Krennic, sensing weakness, leaned in. “I’m going to watch them kill you, just like I watched them kill your mother,” he said. “She died like an _animal_ , groveling at my feet.”

Jyn snapped. She grabbed her gun, aimed it at Krennic’s foot, and fired. He screamed in pain and fell to the ground writhing, blood blossoming in crimson flowers under his feet.

“You _bitch_ ,” he gritted out, holding his bloody foot with his free hand.

“I said, _be quiet_ ,” she seethed, before tucking her gun back into her trousers and turning back to the terminal.

Cassian, hearing the shot, ran over to her side. 

“What happened?” he asked, glancing over at the screen.

Jyn waved it off. She thought she might have found the right folder.

She clicked, and yelped with joy at what she saw. The formula for the Death Star nerve gas. “Got it!” she said.

“Can you find Stardust, too?” Cassian asked, leaning in.

She furrowed her brow, and started to search again.

“Yeah, I—”

She was interrupted by the sound of Krennic bellowing out an order—“Stop them!”—to the guard who had just arrived in the terminal room.

“ _Puta_ —” Cassian bit out, turning too late. The guard fired his weapon, hitting Cassian in the shoulder. Cassian cried out, and fell to the ground. Jyn took the window to rush the guard, and try to wrestle the gun from his hands. It went off again as they struggled, the bullet hitting the glass of the testing chamber, but no one paid it any mind. Jyn was able to jam her elbow back into the guard’s face, momentarily stunning him, and she grabbed the gun from him and shot him in the head with it.

Cassian, meanwhile, had dragged himself into a sitting position against the wall of the testing chamber, and was holding his shoulder. Blood was seeping through his shirt under his hand. Jyn rushed to him, still breathless from her struggle with the guard, and knelt by his side.

“Cassian,” she said, touching his shoulder gently and looking at him with wide eyes. “Fuck, I—”

“I’m okay,” he said, swallowing heavily. His face was contorted with pain, but he was trying to look at her reassuringly. “I’m okay, just get me—get me my gun and help me aim it at the door.”

Jyn understood: it had been his right shoulder, his dominant arm, that had been disabled. He wouldn’t be able to raise the gun if more of Krennic’s men came, and he wanted Jyn to set him up so that his wrist and hand could do all the work.

“Cassian—” she began to protest, but he simply shook his head.

“You need to get the formula to Bodhi, and I need to cover you,” he said firmly, brooking no argument. 

She sighed, but ultimately followed his instructions, grabbing his gun where it had dropped to the floor. It only had one bullet left.

“Here, take mine,” she said, trading guns with him. “I have a full clip. Minus one.”

“Just prop it up—” he said, and she leaned over him to position his shoulder so that his gun was propped up in his lap, aimed at the door. He hissed in pain as she did so. “Sorry,” she said, wincing. She looked up, and they were only inches apart. It reminded her so oddly of when her own shoulder had been dislocated, and he’d knelt down next to her to fix it. “I’m gonna get you through this,” she said to him vehemently, remembering how she’d put her trust in him, thinking of how far they’d come since then.

He nodded, his face tight with pain. “I trust you,” he said.

A tide of emotions welled in her throat at his words, but she tried to set them aside. They just had to get through this. She turned back to the terminal and began to look for Stardust. It only took her a moment or so before she found it, letting out a victorious shout, but by the time she had, another thug had arrived. Cassian quickly dispatched him, but it wasn’t long before a whole crowd followed.

“I want them _alive_!” Krennic shouted at three men that streamed in.

“ _Fuck_ ,” Jyn bit out, desperately trying to send the formula.

“ _Chingada madre_ ,” Cassian grunted, aiming and shooting as quickly as possible. His speed and range of motion was severely limited, though, and he only managed to fell two before the third kicked the gun out of his hand. They both watched as it skittered under some piece of machinery. Cassian, ever resourceful, grabbed at the thug’s gun, but the thug simply ground his foot into Cassian’s shoulder. Cassian grunted and yelled in pain, all plans of grabbing the weapon forgotten.

“In the chamber,” Krennic said. “Put him in the chamber.”

“No—” Jyn said, beginning to turn away from the terminal to help Cassian.

“ _No_ , Jyn!” Cassian shouted to her as he tried to fight off Krennic’s thug from where he was slumped against the wall.

“Cass—” she protested, whipping out her gun.

“Don’t you _dare_ waste that bullet,” he choked out.

The guard was dragging him by his injured arm into the testing chamber despite Cassian’s best efforts. Cassian, gritting his teeth with the pain, was trying and failing to wrench his arm away.

Jyn, miserable but ultimately convinced—she might need that bullet if they were ever to get out of this fucking compound—turned back to the terminal. She was just about to send the data packet to Bodhi when the guard grabbed her from behind.

 _Fuck, no_ , she thought, snapping her head back quickly. The thug shouted, clutching at his mouth, giving Jyn enough time to grab her gun and fire off the last round into his chest.

“Nice, Jyn,” Cassian said, smiling wanly from inside the chamber, clutching at his shoulder. He looked pale and clammy.

She tried to refocus. She was _so_ close.

“Sent it!” she said, relief flooding through her. A progress bar appeared on the screen. Cassian exhaled, closing his eyes and resting his head against the wall of the chamber.

Another man appeared at the door, and Jyn braced herself, holding onto the terminal, eyes glued to the progress bar slowly inching along. He looked worse for the wear, clearly one of Krennic’s men, but without a gun.

“Put her in the chamber,” Krennic spat at the man, tugging at the cuffs. “I want to watch her die.”

The thug grabbed at Jyn, but she stood her ground, clutching onto the terminal. “No,” she gritted out, kicking and elbowing at him. Finally, _finally_ , the progress bar reached its end. _Data package delivered_.

“Bodhi,” Jyn said into her earpiece, shoving back against the thug desperately, “did you receive it?”

“Got it!” she heard Bodhi confirm.

At his word, she slumped, no longer trying to fight the man off. It was done. They had done it. They had done it! Laughing with relief, she let him toss her into the chamber and shut the door behind her. She got up and moved to Cassian’s side. He was pale, and his eyes looked a bit dull with pain, but he was smiling.

“We did it,” he said. “We did it, Jyn.”

They embraced, eyes closed, and Jyn felt Cassian’s blood seeping onto her own clothing. He breathed her in deeply, and Jyn fought the hot rise of tears in her eyes.

Outside, Krennic was trying and failing to get out of the cuffs, his stupid henchman trying to help. But Jyn had the key.

“You’re losing a lot of blood,” Jyn murmured to Cassian.

“It’ll stop soon,” he assured her weakly.

Krennic was shouting outside. Jyn turned to see two more guards pour in. The one who’d thrown them into the chamber was at the terminal, looking confused.

“They’re gonna gas us,” she told Cassian. She had expected it, and yet it hit her with a kind of dull shock. This was the end. She was going to die. It didn’t seem real, somehow. None of it felt real besides Cassian’s blood soaking into her skin.

The overhead distribution device came to life, an eerie whirring sound filling the chamber. Cassian squeezed his eyes shut a moment, and she pushed a lock of hair off of his sweaty forehead tenderly. It had been worth it. It had been worth it, if only because she had met him. Fondness filled her heart to its very brim, spilling over the sides, welling over with warmth. She began to cry as she gazed down at him. She was going to die, and she didn’t regret a thing. A fine mist filled the air, smelling of burnt almonds.

Cassian opened his eyes, and they were red and wet. He grabbed her hand. By then, they’d both inhaled enough to kill them.

Bodhi’s voice buzzed over their comms.

“Jyn,” he said, voice heavy with tears. “Jyn—it’s an _antidote_! Stardust is an antidote!”

Jyn looked at Cassian, eyes wide. This was amazing news. Even if the sale still went through—and that was a big _if_ , for ICE certainly wasn’t paying billions of dollars for a nerve gas everything had the cure to—they could immediately deploy the antidote. And the data package Jyn had sent included the blueprints for the distribution device, too. Bodhi would send all the information to both the CIA and to the Separatists; if the CIA didn’t stand up to ICE, then Jyn knew she could count on Saw to. Any damage could immediately be undone, and the weapon would be rendered useless.

Jyn was overcome with disbelief. Her father had formulated an antidote? He’d—he’d called it _Stardust_. The memory hit her with the force of a tidal wave. _From total destruction, from nothing, something beautiful is built_ , her father had said. _An apology for all that pain. Redemption, at long last._

All this time he had been trying to right his wrongs. Her mind stumbled over it again and again, breathless with a complicated tumble of emotions. With his note, her father—her father had been asking for her _forgiveness_. He had been saying he was sorry. All this time, he had been asking for forgiveness. 

“You finished your father’s work,” Cassian murmured. His hand was warm and firm on her back. “He would be so proud of you, Jyn.”

Jyn smiled softly. He would, wherever he was. She felt her mind settle, and maybe it was the first stages of Death Star poisoning, but she didn’t really care anymore. They had done what they had to. They had saved lives. She curled up close to Cassian again.

“Your parents would be proud of you, too,” she said. “Of all you’ve done.”

Cassian’s face twisted with emotion at that, and he clutched at her tighter.

“Jyn, I don’t—I don’t want to die,” he choked out, shaking his head desperately. Tears began to stream down his face, and he gave a little heartbreaking sob. “Not now.”

He held her close, tight and fierce, like if he didn’t she might vanish into thin air and he’d be alone. How ironic, she thought with a pained little sob: just as Cassian had found something to live for, she had found something to die for.

She tucked her head into his chest, which was spasming with sobs.

“I’m right here,” she said, muffled with tears and cloth and Cassian’s chest, “I’m going to stay right here, until the very end.”

His breathing began to grow weaker, sounding almost wet. She was losing him.

“Cassian,” she said desperately. “Cassian, I want you to know—I want you to know—” She looked up at him, trying to find the words. “I wouldn’t—I would not change a thing. Not a single thing.”

She would just wish for more time.

Darkness crept along her vision, and she could almost feel the poison creeping sugar-sweet through her veins. She was—she was so tired, and so cold. Cassian was hardly helping, feeling cool to the touch himself, but she snuggled closer to him anyway.

“Jyn,” Cassian murmured, hand flexing on her back. “Jyn, _querida_ — _mi amor_ —I won’t leave you. No matter what, I won’t leave you.”

“ _Acércate_ ,” she mumbled, and her skin felt cold and tingly. “ _Acércate.”_

“ _Si, mi cielo, si,”_ she heard, before the black of a starless sky consumed her vision.

***

Jyn started awake from a dream in which Cassian was sinking in the quicksand-lava of the apocalypse. His hand slipped beneath the molten waves right before she was able to pull him to safety. Immediately, she shaded her eyes, startled by the institutional whiteness of wherever she was.

“Cassian…” she croaked. She didn’t know where she was, and she didn’t know how she got here, but she did know this: she had to find Cassian, had to hold onto him tightly so he wouldn’t go under.

Go under? She blinked. Go under _where?_ Groggily, her mind swam through the waves of confusing, conflicting memories and thoughts and sensations. They had been in the lab—why had they been in the lab again?

It all came back to her as she raised a hand shakily to her face.

“Have I died?” she asked no one in particular.

“No,” came a prim British voice.

Jyn opened her eyes a crack to peer over at its origin. There sat Esso. 

“Hell, then,” she muttered, mostly to herself.

A lump covered in a blanket revealed itself to be Bodhi, who had sat up at the sound of Esso’s reply.

“Is she awake?” he asked sleepily, his eyes not quite fully open yet. Coming back to himself, seeing Jyn, he shot up. “Jyn! You’re awake!”

Jyn sat up slowly, feeling dizzy and nauseous. Bodhi immediately stood to ease her back.

“You’re alive, Jyn—you’re alive,” he cooed softly. “We were able to get the antidote to you in time.”

She felt disoriented, caught in that testing chamber. “And Cassian?” she asked.

“Him, too,” Bodhi replied calmly. “Everything is okay. You’re in Texas. You’re safe.”

“But I don’t…” Jyn said, looking around anxiously, beginning to get agitated, “I don’t understand…where’s Cassian? He said…he said…”

The heart monitor began to beep at a troubling clip, sending the nurse in, who briskly gave her a light sedative. It acted quickly, and Bodhi held her hand. Still upset and confused, but her mind muffled, Jyn leaned back onto her pillows, looking around dully.

“Cassian’s just fine,” she heard Esso say, “but I’m afraid he’s been court-martialed by the CIA. He disobeyed orders. They have him in a special wing.”

“What…?” she said, her mind going fuzzy once again. “They shot him…they shot him again…”

Even Esso seemed a bit touched at her concern for his friend, and he gave her an indulgent little smile.

“He’s alright, Jyn,” Esso said. “He’s alive, and I’m sure he’ll be released soon.”

Jyn nodded drowsily, and fell into a heavy, narcotic-addled sleep.

***

After that, information only came to Jyn in bits and pieces. CIA agents were the only ones allowed to visit Cassian, and Esso reported that he was making a full recovery and that he would have a trial date as soon as he was well enough. Esso was of the opinion that they were merely looking for a reason to kick Cassian out of the agency, and not to punish him further. Jyn wasn’t sure whether that was reassuring or not.

The sale of the Death Star had not gone through. The bullet that had hit the glass paneling of the testing chamber cracked it in doing so, and that crack, with the pressure of the nerve gas, caused the whole panel to shatter. The deadly poison was released into Hacienda Rosales, and only those who received the antidote survived. Krennic, still handcuffed to the railing, and his men were not among those lucky few, and died of the poison they had helped create. Jyn couldn’t help the sharp grin that had risen to her face at hearing this news. They’d written their own death sentences when they decided to gas Jyn and Cassian. It seemed fitting, and Jyn was happy that, for once, the universe seemed to have provided its own justice.

Ramona and Ximena had been safely evacuated, but, besides them, there were no survivors among Krennic’s people. So there’d been no one to close the deal. Besides that, the CIA men who had been administering the antidote saw fit to smash the Death Star machinery to bits. Chirrut and Baze came and visited her a lot, along with Melshi. They were getting along famously. Bodhi practically _lived_ at the hospital while Jyn was recovering.

And now, on her last day in hospital, even Agent Solo saw fit to visit her.

“I’ve heard it’s customary to offer British people grapes when they’re in the hospital,” he said, dropping a package of wrinkled green grapes onto her tray and smirking.

“You shouldn’t have,” she said, deadpan.

“Ah, good to see you’ve got your wits about you again,” he said, plopping down in the chair Bodhi customarily sat in. He was currently getting a coffee in the canteen, and Jyn suspected that that was not accident. “I heard you were muttering Cassian’s name when you woke up.”

She grimaced, and popped a grape in her mouth. “To be fair, the last time I’d been conscious, he _had_ been dying in front of me,” she said.

Han hesitated uncharacteristically. “I, ah—I’ve got a visitor for you,” he said.

Her eyes widened. _Cassian_? She glanced at the door.

“Cassian owes me a _giant_ favor,” he went on. “I went against _Mothma_ for this.” He smiled slyly. Turning to the door, he said, “Send him in.”

Jyn looked at the door in confusion. What the _fuck_?

The figure that appeared in the doorway made Jyn’s heart leap in her throat.

“Daddy?” she asked, dumbstruck. It was—it was her father.

“Jyn,” he said, like it had been ripped out of him. He rushed to her side and knelt next to her. Agent Solo seemed to take this as his cue, and left quietly. Galen took Jyn’s hands and kissed them. “Jyn, Jyn, my darling, my Stardust—”

She stared at him, stunned into silence. He was older, now, and it showed. His hair had turned mostly gray, and his face was lined and weathered. He looked _exhausted_ , gaunt, burnt-out, pressing his mouth to her hands. She had the wild thought that the Death Star had perhaps scrambled her brains, and she was hallucinating things.

“What—I don’t—I thought you were dead,” she said, utterly lost. Her other hand, hesitant and unbelieving, reached out to touch his face. “Daddy, I—”

She leaned forward to embrace him, and he stood, nearly lifting her off the bed in a huge bear hug. His chest began to heave with sobs, and Jyn couldn’t help but cry, too. “Jyn, Jynnie, sweetheart, baby,” he kept on saying. “I’m sorry, I’m so, so sorry.”

“Dad,” she sobbed, “Dad.”

Jyn was released not long after, and the beleaguered nurse who had been assigned to her ward had recommended a nearby diner. Galen tucked his arm into hers as they walked over. Shell-shocked, she was saving her questions, and he seemed to be saving his answers.

“You’ve gotten so big, Stardust,” he said, quietly baffled. “You’re a woman, now.”

She blinked at him as they slid into a secluded booth.

“It’s been—” she stumbled, “it’s been nearly twenty years, Dad.”

He just nodded, and shifted uncomfortably, wringing his hands. Engineer’s hands, just as she remembered: fingers long and slim, big palms, neatly clipped nails, calluses and machine oil. Suddenly it was as though she were a child again, watching him work, tracing his life line and heart line like rings of the trunk of a tree.

She grabbed his hand, all at once, and he turned hers over in his palm and kissed it, his lips twisted into an expression at once bitter and awed.

“I don’t understand,” she said, “how are you here?”

“Your friend found me. I was in a federal prison in Arizona.”

“What?” Jyn exclaimed. Galen kissed her hand again with a kind of reverent disbelief, and began to explain.

“ICE took me.” Jyn’s eyes widened. “They were beginning to doubt that Krennic would ever deliver on his promise, so they kidnapped me. They threatened me with prison, never imagining that they were doing me a favor,” he said. “You see, I’d been searching for a way out, but I didn’t know who I could trust with Stardust—the project, sweetheart, the antidote, not you—and Krennic seemed to know that something was going on. I had to act. Then Will came along, and I found out that he was CIA. I was planning on approaching him, but then some men in a van took me. Thankfully, I’d made plans for that eventuality, though of course I thought it would be Krennic who disappeared me, not an American agency.” He paused, squeezing her hand. “When I refused to build the Death Star again, they jailed me. And then one day that Agent Solo turned up.”

“Christ,” Jyn said, trying to process everything.

“I guess Will—Cassian, I keep on forgetting— _Cassian_ asked him to find me.”

Cassian had—? Even after the CIA had said they wouldn’t help find him?

“So, tell me about your life, sweetheart,” her father said, startling her out of her thoughts. “What have you—what have you been doing all this time?”

 _Waiting for you_ , she wanted to say, but didn’t dare. The thought made tears rise in her eyes again, and she blinked them away furiously. She was so _angry_ with him. He didn’t just get to come back and pretend that the last twenty years of Jyn’s life—those painful, _empty_ years—never happened.

She looked down at her hands, tears dropping like crystals onto the chipped plastic of the dinette.

“What have _you_ ,” she choked out, voice tight with emotion, “what have _you_ been doing all this time?”

“Oh, Jyn,” he said, so weakly she almost missed it. She looked up. He was crying. “I know I’ve failed you, Jyn. I’ve failed you in _every possible way_.” He shifted so that his head was in his heads. “It’s no excuse, I know it’s no excuse, but I just—I wanted for you to never have had me as a father. I wanted for you to have been born into a normal family, with no Death Stars and no Krennic and no,” he stumbled, “no pain.”

She looked at him, confused.

“After your mother died, I thought: better for you to be with Saw and be _alive_ , than with me. He could protect you. He could shield you from all this. I know it’s no excuse, Jyn, but I couldn’t—I couldn’t stand to lose one more thing.”

“And you think I _could_?” she sobbed, her voice almost a whisper. “I didn’t need _protection_ , I needed—I needed someone who _loved_ me!”

“I know, Jyn, I know,” he said. He slumped, defeated. “I have made so many mistakes.”

Jyn watched him, clear-eyed, from across the table. The question that had lived on her lips since she was seven years old leapt out:

“Why didn’t you ever come to get me, later? Why didn’t you come find me?”

She swallowed and looked down, trying to hide how much the answer meant to her.

“I thought I was keeping you safe,” he admitted brokenly. “I thought that if I ever reached out, Krennic might find you, somehow. I knew you’d hate me for it, I did, but at least you’d be _alive_ , Jyn, at least still be _alive_ —not stuck in that prison like I was.” He paused, blowing his nose on the cheap paper napkins. “I’m sorry, Jyn. I’m so sorry for the decisions I’ve made, and what they have done to your life,” he said. “I know that I’ve made a terrible mess of things, but, please, Jyn, please know this: all I ever did, I did to keep you _safe_. Just to keep you safe.”

She sighed, frustrated. “But, Dad—did you think of all those people you were putting in danger by building the Death Star? What about their safety?”

“I was selfish, I know—but I genuinely thought that Krennic would simply replace me with someone else were I not to comply with his demands, and we had _tried_ hiding, and he had found us anyway,” he said, hands out in supplication. “I thought at least this way, I’d have some _control_ —” He sighed. “I see now that I was naïve.”

Jyn exhaled softly. Perhaps like her, like Cassian, her father had remained in that room, staring at the corpse of his wife, unable to break out. Perhaps they had all been punished enough. 

“You’re the only good thing I’ve ever done, and I love you, Jyn, _so much_ ,” Galen continued, eyes shining. “I know you didn’t ask for this—for any of this, for having me as a father, for being thrust into this violent world—and I’m so, _so_ proud of you. You’ve managed to be a better person, a braver person, than I ever was.” He blinked, beginning to cry again. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

Jyn grabbed his hands again.

“It’ll be okay, Dad,” she said, lips numb. “It’ll be okay,” she repeated. She was surprised to find that really meant it. Of course these wounds would leave scars, but that was miles better than slowly bleeding out. With time, with time, she would build something new from all this jumbled mess.

***

Finca Las Estrellas, Antioquia, Colombia

3 Months Later

“Take an umbrella!” Jyn called out, running after Bodhi and her father.

It was raining, hot and heavy and humid, and she stood under the canopy that shaded their doorstep and breathed it in. The coffee plants would be happily drinking it up, growing stronger and greener and sweeter. These things, Jyn thought, looking at her father, these things take time. She blessed them with her patience.

They had decided not to go home to England: something about returning there, together, but without Lyra, felt wrong. That place, that feeling, was a part of the past, and Jyn understood that. Things changed. It was okay. It was enough to look out on the Colombian rain, heavy and tropical instead of misty and grey, and inhale the petrichor-drenched air, and let herself be transported back, if only for a moment.

Chirrut had been the one to suggest Colombia, because he and Baze were moving to Medellín to open a dojo, and because the only thing Galen knew besides engineering was plants. Coffee cultivation was, apparently, booming. Jyn couldn’t see why not. It was rainy there, Chirrut assured her, good for growing. She supposed that it would allow her to practice her Spanish. 

Bodhi, who had grown up in London and had never kept so much as a houseplant, had originally balked at the idea. But, now, he happily puttered away with tractor engines and gleefully rigged up automatic harvester systems. Jyn suspected this had something to do with the quiet, calm, gorgeous Joaquín, the finca’s overseer and resident plant-whisperer, who tended to his crops like they were his babies, but didn’t know the first thing about mechanics. He and Bodhi spent their evenings strolling among the fruit trees that shaded the coffee, the Colombian listening quietly as Bodhi rambled on about irrigation and moisture sensors. Bodhi had recounted to Jyn the magical moment when he had apologized to Joaquín for talking so much, and Joaquín had shrugged and calmly said, “I like the sound of your voice.” She had never seen him so happy.

Jyn and her father spent a lot of time out among the plants, too, slowly getting to know each other again. It was painful, and painstaking, like stepping your way through a field of landmines. There were moments, in spite of how difficult it was, where she felt like a child again, digging through the dirt out in the fields with her dad. He was quieter, now, but just as patient and diligent with the plants as she remembered.

The nursery, however, was the best: Arabica seedlings unfurling their tender leaves in the loamy soil. It made her a sense of calmness, of cleanness, like she could really feel the solid ground beneath her feet. The finca felt like home in way no place had since Yorkshire.

Jyn handed the umbrella to Bodhi. He and her father were going into town for the day, to sell some coffee and buy supplies. She watched as they piled in the truck, laden with bags of freshly roasted beans, and backed out of the drive onto the dirt path that led to the finca’s main building.

Closing the door, she got her headphones and began to listen to her Spanish-language tape.

“ _¡Cuánto tiempo sin verlo!_ ” the cheery voice said.

She repeated it dutifully, if distractedly. “ _Cuánto tiempo sin verlo_.”

“I haven’t seen you in so long!”

“I haven’t seen you in so long,” she said, listless.

She stared out the window into the dull green of the rainforest.

The only thing that was missing was Cassian.

She missed him. She wondered where he was, what he was doing. The tribunal had actually resulted in his receiving a commendation, but that had been a month ago now. She supposed he was back at the CIA, working on some case.

Staring into the dense jungle, rain coming down in sheets, she felt so entirely alone. Her father, sure, and Bodhi—she had them, and even Chirrut and Baze came to visit every now and again. But there had been no one, no one who’d seen her the way he had. He, more than anyone else, knew her: he had seen her at her ugliest, her unhappiest, her most selfish and cruel. And he’d still—he’d still wanted her. He’d still come back for her.

And she knew him, too. Saw the soul of him, the hurt and the anger and the fire that he smothered under layers of duty and guilt. They were two of a kind, she and him, and she felt his absence like a phantom pain of an amputated limb. She didn’t understand it. How, she wondered, could one person undo a lifetime of distrust and isolation? It mystified her how it had been contrived for the two of them to meet, how they could have possibly found their way to each other, and how they could have denied the seemingly cosmic manipulation that sought to bring them together. A rush of affection, and a twin rush of anger: how dare he, she thought, have such a monopoly on her happiness? How dare he crash into her life, shrouded in a cloud of cigarette smoke, and cause such _damage_?

How dare he leave her, when he said he never would?

There was a desperate knock at the door. Jyn’s head jerked towards the sound, and she yanked her earphones out and went to the door. Bodhi and her father had probably forgotten something.

Swinging open the door, she began to ask, “What did you—?”

Her eyes widened at who she saw, and she cut off her own question in shock.

It was Cassian. Cassian had come back.

He was absolutely soaking wet, shivering in the rain with his arms wrapped around himself tightly. She didn’t know where to begin, too busy drinking him in happily, eyes tracking across his face, his hands, his chest, his eyes. His five o’clock shadow had become proper stubble, and he looked too thin. Tired, definitely, but still whole, she thought with a surge of warm affection.

“Cassian,” she said stupidly. The last time she’d seen him he’d been dying, they’d _both_ been dying, and it was good to see him whole and healthy again. She wanted to _touch_ him, to feel for herself that he was unharmed, but she was afraid if she did, he’d disappear like the mirage he so clearly was.

“Hello, Jyn,” he replied, looking small and unsure.

“You’re here,” she said, feeling tears come to her eyes despite herself. She blinked, suddenly, realizing he was soaked to the bone and she was just letting him stand outside in the rain. “Fuck, sorry, come in, you must be freezing.”

She stepped aside, and he smiled sheepishly as he entered.

“Not used to rain,” he said, shaking out his collar. “Don’t even have an umbrella.”

“Yeah,” she said, uncharacteristically awkward and unsure. She felt as though she were in a dream, and needed to choose carefully what she said and did lest she awake from it. “Yeah. The coffee loves it.”

“You’re a coffee farmer, now, then?” he asked, running his hands through his hair to get some rain out. He was a mirage. He must be a mirage. “It’s strange, I always imagined you’d go back home with your father.”

“Too much history,” she said distractedly, busily trying to find the words to thank Cassian with. Trying to find _any_ words that would convey how at a loss she was to find him here. How much she had missed him. He was nodding sympathetically, now, and Jyn blurted out, “Thank you, by the way.” At his questioning look, she paused. “For finding my father. I’d wanted to say that sooner, but—”

He shook his head. “No, no, it was nothing, Jyn, really—”

“Please, Cassian, I—”

They both stopped talking abruptly, and Jyn laughed softly.

“What are you doing here?” she asked, her voice so thick with affection she thought she might blush.

“I thought you’d like to know,” he said, ducking his head as he spoke, “I thought you might be happy to hear that I quit.”

He then looked up at her, as if to gauge her response, and Jyn didn’t bother to hide her surprise.

“You _what_?” she asked, all distance forgotten in that instant, like they were back in his office in the hacienda.

“I resigned,” he said simply. “They were holding me in a place called _Wichita_ ,” he pronounced it slowly, “and then suddenly I was being commended.” He paused, looking thoughtful. “I thought, with my shiny new plaque, I might be able to change some things. But when I asked what would be done about ICE buying illegal weapons, they said to me: nothing. No repercussions. No mention in the press.”

She watched him, wide-eyed, as his face ran through some complicated emotion.

“I couldn’t—I couldn’t let them—” he said. He was struggling to find the words, but Jyn understood what he was trying to say. Jyn marveled at how she’d once found him impossible to read. How close they’d drawn to each other. How quickly she knew where to look for his tells. Even months without seeing him, she understood what he was feeling.

“I know,” she said quietly. She wanted to touch him, to reassure him, but didn’t know if she was allowed. “I know.”

“Like it had never happened,” he said quietly. “Like everything we did had been for nothing.”

“It wasn’t for nothing,” she insisted, voice low. 

His expression shifted into something softer, dark eyes gazing at her at a low hum. He was shivering, now, still dripping water onto the floor. She remembered, a sensation like a freight train, the warmth of his body against hers. The ghost of his touch was all golden glowing haze and honey rays of sunshine, all citrus and warm spice, and wasn’t that a fucking one-two punch?

“Lemme—” she said. “Lemme get you some fresh clothes. I have some things that’ll fit you.”

He followed her to her room, where she fished through her pajama drawer for her largest t-shirt and baggiest joggers.

“You know,” Cassian said sheepishly, “I wasn’t sure you’d want to see me.”

Jyn looked up from her task, surprised. She softened at the tentative expression on his face, at the soft way he was asking her if he was welcome here.

“Of course I want to see you, Cassian,” she said, voice tight with emotion, staring down at her hands as they clutched at the clothing. “You’re—you’re the only one who understands. The only one.”

Trying not to cry, she held out a simple t-shirt.

Half-shaded in the dark of the house, Cassian swallowed thickly, and began to unbutton his rain-soaked Oxford. Grabbing the t-shirt, he caught Jyn’s eye as she looked at him almost shyly. Heat traveled up Jyn’s spine at the expression on his face, so vulnerable and cracked-open and full of yearning she felt it in her gut.

“Jyn,” he murmured. “Oh, Jyn.”

He dropped the shirt and all but _lunged_ at her. Jyn cried out softly as he grabbed her face and kissed her, fierce and hot and heart-stopping. A thousand flowers, a riot of blooms, seemed to open and flare around her at the feel of him against her, and she sobbed gently into his mouth, hands roaming desperately on his skin. Everything came rushing back, every moment, every touch, every look, and she felt like a dam about to break. The past few months had been _torture_ , and now he was here, kissing her like she was fresh water in an endless desert. His hands dropped to trace her collarbones, to run softly along her shoulders and arms and back.

She drew back slightly, because it was too much—it was too much—

“I missed you,” she whispered. “I’ve been waiting—”

“I dreamt of you, Jyn,” he murmured hotly, eyes fervent. She stroked his face tenderly, lost in him. “Endlessly, I dreamt of you. Sometimes—sometimes I saw you—I felt you near me—”

He kissed her again, like he wasn’t close enough, like he couldn’t get close enough. Jyn threaded her hands through his hair, moaning into his mouth. The air felt charged with electricity, zapping at Jyn’s skin with each slide of Cassian’s tongue over her own. She felt herself going dark-eyed and feral, senses set alight, and she nipped at his lip, something in her wanting blood. He was hers. He was _hers_.

She kissed her way to his jawline, his neck, his collarbone, and sucked a mark there, harsh and red. Cassian inhaled sharply at the sensation. Meanwhile, she untucked his shirt and finished unbuttoning it.

“I couldn’t _sleep_ , Cassian,” she said desperately, nuzzling his neck, “I couldn’t fucking sleep.”

She let her hands travel over him, learning his shape and scent all over again, smoothing his shirt off his shoulders. The sight of the scar from his bullet wound hit her like a slap. It was almost totally healed over. He had been so lucky, so lucky to only get hit in the shoulder. She ran her thumb gently over it, her mind stalling at the idea of—the idea of Cassian being gone. Of being alone, without him, for good.

“I’m here,” Cassian murmured, pushing her hair back gently, “I’m here.”

They kissed again, this time softer and sweeter, Jyn wondering at how he seemed to read her thoughts. He licked into her mouth tenderly, holding her like something very breakable. It was too good to be true, heart-stopping and gorgeous, together once more after all this time apart.

Her chest rose and fell heavily, lost in his kiss, and she pulled back, lips feeling bruised and swollen. Staring at him, heavy-lidded, she pulled her shirt over her head and tossed it to the side. She hadn’t been wearing a bra, and Cassian blinked, looking at her tits stupidly for a moment. Jyn, exposed and vulnerable, felt a hot flush spread across her neck and chest. He bent down, smoothing his arms around her, and put his mouth on her.

“Cassian,” she murmured helplessly as he made his way down her body, stopping to drag his tongue along her collarbone. His mouth, hot and sweet, seemed to ignite flames wherever it touched.

“’ _Ta madre_ ,” he murmured to himself, mouthing and licking at her tits, one of his hands coming up to tease their undersides.

“Cass—fuck—” she bit out, putting her hands in his hair. He began to suck lightly at one nipple, rolling the other between two fingers. The thick heat of arousal muscled its way up her spine, and she pulled at his hair at the sensation. He moaned, his touch turning almost frantic. His stubble rubbed deliciously against her sensitive skin. He bit at her, lightly at first and then harder, and Jyn just pulled him in closer, letting out a sobbing breath, squeezing her thighs together desperately. Her cunt was already wet and aching, her nipples tight and sensitive, and she pulled him up to kiss him again, deep and wild. Something in her, animal and ancient and visceral, snarled. It was circling defensively in her chest, injured and alone. What had taken him so long?

“You left me,” she said, all brittle vulnerable hurt. “You said you wouldn’t leave me.”

Cassian looked at her, shocked. His eyes softened at the wounded expression she couldn’t help but show him. When had she become this person? So helpless before him, unable to find any place to hide.

He closed his eyes and leaned his forehead against hers. “I’m sorry, Jyn,” he murmured. He understood. She could tell he understood. He knew that she wasn’t really angry with him. “I’m sorry.” He kissed her again, soft and sweet and searching, smoothing her hair back over and over again. “Forgive me,” he said quietly. “Forgive me, _mi amor_.”

“Don’t go again,” she said in a trembling voice, beginning to unbutton her trousers.

“No,” he agreed, forehead against hers, smoothing his hand against her stomach. His thumb ran over her cheekbone over and over again.

“Stay here with me,” she said. She pushed her trousers down, leaving them in a pool at her foot. “ _Quédate conmigo_.”

“ _Sí_ ,” he said, moving his hand so it encircled her throat gently. “ _Sí, mi cielo.”_

He shifted to a kneeling position before her, and Jyn tried to find the words to object, to tell him to mind his knee, but the feel of his teeth scraping along her hip bone scattered any qualms she might have had. He buried his face in the soft patch of skin between her stomach and her pubic bone, nuzzling up against her in a move that seemed half-crazed and terribly raw. Jyn blinked down at him, panting. He was kneeling in front of her like he was in her debt, like he was begging for her forgiveness, for her benediction. “Oh, Cass,” she simply said. “Oh, my darling.” She had forgiven him everything ages ago.

His eyes flicked up to hers at the endearment, and he seemed delirious as he dragged her thong down and nosed along the dark hair it revealed. Fuck, she was _wet_. He inhaled deeply, and Jyn thought she might pass out. Her chest was practically heaving as she stared down at him, hanging on his every move, suspended in mid-air.

“Oh, please,” she said softly, carding her hands through his hair. “Oh, darling, please.”

He looked up at her. Eyes hooded and dark, he began to mouth softly at the sensitive skin of her inner thigh. Jyn came to the realization that she _trembling_ , utterly lost, desperate for him to touch her. The rain continued to fall heavily outside, and she jerked slightly at the feeling of his hand on her hip. Glancing up at her, he moved to her cunt. The reality of him, down on his knees in front of her, about to eat her out, hit her like a ton of bricks, and she made a wounded noise.

Using his fingers, Cassian opened her up gently, breath coming out in a harsh exhale, as, she imagined, he felt how wet she was. He suddenly licked a blunt stripe along the seam of her cunt, grunting thickly as he did so. Jyn covered her mouth with a hand as he began to work at her in earnest, lapping at her with broad strokes, swirling his tongue around her clit. She couldn’t help the desperate little sounds that escaped anyway, squirming slightly as he began to tongue her clit softly. He exhaled loudly through his nose, grabbing her hips firmly and ultimately placing one leg over his shoulder.

“Fuck, fuck, _fuck_ ,” she was saying, dazed, fucking up against his mouth with tiny jerking motions. She clutched at his hair desperately, pleasure sizzling and popping its way along her veins. He held her firm against his mouth and tongued her clit mercilessly, and she thought her spine might be melting.

Taking a break, panting, he shifted his knee uncomfortably. Free from touch-induced mental fog, she almost physically startled.

“Oh, Cassian, fuck, get up, what are you doing?”

She hauled him to his feet. Blinking down at her, looking thoroughly debauched, he cast her a quizzical look.

“Your knee,” she said gently. She took his hand and led him slowly to the bed. Sitting on the edge, she dragged him close to her, so he was standing between her thighs.

She began to unbuckle his belt, and he inhaled and exhaled loudly, running his own hands through his hair like he couldn’t quite believe what was happening.

“I would do,” he said unsteadily, watching as she shoved his trousers and briefs down. “I would anything for you.”

She began to stroke him. She felt overheated and out of control, going by blind instinct alone. “You’ve done enough,” she breathed. “You’ve done everything.”

He leaned down to kiss her, breath stuttering in time with her strokes. They worked themselves backward along the bed, wordlessly working together like two planets bound by mutual gravity, until her body was on top of his.

He smiled up at her, and Jyn couldn’t help the grin that spread across her face. She’d made an utter mess of his hair. It was sticking up in all directions, making him look like nothing so much as a mischievous child caught doing something bad. She began stroking his head and face, at first to smooth down a section of hair and then because it felt nice.

“You’re so beautiful,” she murmured instead, smiling, tracing his upper lip with her thumb in a gesture that could only be called _adoring_. He kissed her again, maneuvering them so that they were sitting up, Jyn in his lap. His cock was hard against her cunt, and the arousal that had been simmering returned to an uncontrolled flame, flaring hot inside her body. Jyn was lost in sensation: his stubble against her cheek, his smell crowding her faculties, the feel of his wiry strength against her. She hardly noticed the way he was moving her body until she was laying back with his mouth on her tits again. “Oh, please,” she murmured. “Please stop teasing.”

He sat back up at that, his bad leg outstretched, and grabbed her legs. He looked calculating, and careful, and her stomach dropped in mildly terrified arousal at the expression. What was he planning on doing to her?

“How flexible are you?” he asked lowly, looking at her with dark-flint eyes.

The question made her flash hot and cold, and she grinned breathlessly. “Very.”

He lifted her legs, going slowly, always watching her for an objection, and then pushed them up over her head until she was bent double. Her knees were just about resting on the bed on either side of her head, her back resting against his stomach and chest.

“Oh, fuck,” she said weakly, staring up at him, lips parted. She was completely, utterly exposed to his eyes, entirely at his mercy. This position left her totally vulnerable. He could do whatever he wanted to her, she realized, a jolt of drugging arousal taking her down. Even worse, she would let him. She would happily let him. “Oh, fuck.”

“Alright?” he asked, smoothing his hands down the backs of her thighs appreciatively. His eyes were roaming over her hotly.

“Yeah,” she said, panting, palming her tits and biting her lip.

“Tell me if you want to stop,” he said, staring at her cunt.

She nodded, breathless, too keyed-up even to scoff at him incredulously. Did she _look_ like she wanted him to stop?

He moved closer to her, lowering his mouth to her with the same look of single-minded determination he’d had when he’d reset her shoulder. Jyn was shaking, tense all over, helpless under his touch. He began by burying his face her cunt, running his hands down her thighs again so he could open her up further. She responded with a strangled cry, breathing heavily as she watched him with rapt attention. His thumb rubbed at her swollen clit as he began to bob his head, fucking his tongue into her.

“Oh my—” Jyn cried out, trying and failing to control the movement of her legs. He grabbed them and pinned them back again, sitting up further, never once looking up or stopping the movement of his tongue against her. “Cassian, Cassian—fuck, fuck, fuck—that’s so good—you’re so fucking good—you’re so—hah—hah—”

She broke off, squeezing her eyes shut, honestly unable to put together coherent sentences any long. Her entire body was coiled tight, arousal ratcheting the pressure higher and higher. The wet sounds his mouth was making against her cunt were utterly obscene, and she was sweating and cursing, bangs stuck to her forehead. Helpless under him, with precisely no leverage to work with, all she could do was watch him, enthralled, as he worked at her and worked at her. The set of his brow as licked and mouthed at her cunt was so endearing and, as she watched him, it was as though something inside her was flooding, slowly and irrevocably.

“Cassian,” she said desperately. “Cassian, you—oh—” She didn’t even know what she was trying to say any more. His eyes flicked up to look at her, and he moaned thickly against her cunt. Her body began to rise up against his mouth as her orgasm began to approach rapidly. “I’m gonna—you’re gonna make me cum—fuck—”

Folded over, completely helpless and exposed, her orgasm rose and rose, a wildfire heat expanding in her veins. She couldn’t fucking _breathe_ , and she pushed up against his mouth, sobbing through it. He continued tongue-fucking her, until he was practically holding her up in the air. She moved her hands to the bed, jerking and shaking against his mouth. It felt like fucking _minutes_.

When she was through the tremors, Cassian fell backwards, bringing her with him. He licked at her gently even then, shifting his hands to encourage her into a sitting position. She was sitting on his face, shell-shocked, as he gripped her arse and moved the flat of his tongue against her cunt.

“Cassian—do you—what are you—?” she panted out, trying to gauge what he wanted.

He stopped, and looked up at her, mouth shiny and eyes wild. His chest was rising and falling heavy under her.

“Please,” he begged. “Please, let me—”

She blinked down at him, breathing heavily, and nodded. Shifting gently, she lowered her cunt to his mouth. Her knuckles were white on the headboard as he began to tease her with his tongue again. She whimpered at the sensation, hips jerking minutely. His stubble rasped against her inner thighs, strong hands holding her in place. He began to lick at her like she was an ice-cream cone, and she couldn’t help but give a startled, plaintive, “ _Yes_.”

Pulling her down even more, so her cunt was flush against his face, he sucked at her clit hard. Jyn opened her mouth in a silent scream, fisting her hands in Cassian’s hair. He let out a moan that was more vibration than sound and Jyn whimpered at the sensation.

“Fuck, Cassian,” she said, beginning to move her hips in helpless little jerks against his face. She remembered how much he liked her fucking his mouth last time, and tried to regulate her movements. Finally, she got into a nice rhythm, moving her cunt against his lips. Feeling her orgasm coming again, she gripped at his hair tighter and sobbed, holding his mouth in place as she thrust against his mouth. He grunted, dark eyes flicking up to meet hers, using his hands to move her hips faster. Her own eyes squeezed shut in pleasure, and she leaned forward, releasing his hair, to rest her head and hands on the headboard again.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” she was whispering. It was so fucking good—so fucking good—she tried to tell him so, but her mouth wouldn’t cooperate. She continued to grind against his face, the pressure building and building in her belly, until her body suddenly snapped in on itself, hips moving in tight little circles against his mouth. He grunted again as she came on his face, his thumb working her clit deftly. “Fuck—Cassian—yes—yes—” Her mouth opened in a silent scream again as she shuddered and shook.

Breathing heavily, she shifted off of his face and flopped down next to him. Dazed and overheated, chest heaving, she simply laid there a moment, not even noticing Cassian wiping off his mouth and propping himself up on his elbow next to her.

“Fuck,” she said weakly, brushing her sweaty fringe out of her face. “Fucking Christ.”

They both sat there a moment, panting.

“What’s that called?” Cassian asked thoughtfully. “In English.”

“What’s—” she repeated, jerking her head over to face him. “That’s called—that’s called sitting on someone’s face.” Her voice was rough and crackly, whether due to arousal, embarrassment, or exhaustion, she couldn’t tell.

“Hmm,” he said contentedly, tongue flicking out to lick his lips. “Sitting on _my_ face.”

Jyn watched him. “Jesus Christ,” she said. “Why would your ex-wife ever divorce you?”

Cassian just smiled at her.

“You smug bastard,” she said, breaking out into laughter despite herself. He ducked his head and laughed too.

“I’ve been thinking of doing that for months,” he said dreamily. He sighed. “Some nights, it was like—like I could taste you,” he continued lowly. His eyes found hers unerringly. “Like I could smell you.”

She rolled over on her elbow to face him, so that they were mirror images. Reaching down, she trailed a finger along the length of his cock.

“Yeah?” she said.

He exhaled and nodded, his eyes going far away. “I missed you,” he breathed. 

She nodded, listening intently. She spat on her hand and stroked him firmly.

“ _Chingada madre_ ,” he swore, gritting his teeth.

“I missed you, too,” she said quietly, leaning over to kiss him again. “Missed your eyes and your smell and your voice—”

He rolled them over gently, and looked down at her with a wide-open expression that made Jyn’s heart somersault. She wondered at him, at all the moments that had led her here, that had led him to her.

“I don’t want to hide anymore,” she said, as if in a daze, hoping he would understand. She was stripped naked in front of him, totally bare of all her defenses. “I never stood a chance against you anyway.”

His face was blown open with wonder, and she stroked his cheek gently.

“I won’t hurt you,” he said.

“I know.”

“I’ll never hurt you.”

“I know,” she said, tears rising in her eyes. She reached up to kiss him again, her hand returning to his cock, which was now only half-hard. He hissed and jerked as she began to stroke him again.

“Tell me what you want,” he gasped. “ _Lo que quieres—_ Anything—”

“Please fuck me,” she interrupted, voice high and reedy, suddenly desperate to feel him inside of her, to get closer, closer, closer.

He blinked, and then immediately licked a hand and brought it to her cunt. Totally unnecessarily, Jyn wanted to say, because she was still _very_ wet.

Carefully, he guided his cock into her, going slow, _maddeningly slow_ , and Jyn let her head fall back at the delicious sensation of having him inside her. He gasped and grunted, fully seated inside her.

“Oh, you feel—you feel so good, Jyn, _carajo_ ,” he murmured, mouthing at her neck. His hands smoothed all over her body, feverish and hot. When he began to move, Jyn felt like her mind was floating away, adrift in pleasure, the only connection to the ground below the feeling of his body against hers.

“Oh, that’s—” she gasped, still close to tears, “That’s so—that’s so good.”

He grunted, still moving in her, smoothing her hair away from her face again and again, and said, “Your cunt is so good, so perfect, Jyn, _mi amor_ , I _dreamed_ of it, _te juro_ —”

He shook his head fervently, clearly losing his words, and choosing instead to nuzzle at her neck desperately. She clenched down on him, and he moaned into her neck. They rolled so that they were both on their sides.

He was saying words in Spanish, now, and she was too far gone to even begin to try and decode them, clinging onto him as he fucked into her. Adrift on a sea of sensations, she just let his voice wash over her, rough and delicious and smooth all at once.

“Oh, Cassian,” she said, burying her head in his neck. “Cassian, Cassian—”

His hand snaked in between them, playing with her clit, and she whimpered at the sensation. Her cunt clenched tight around his cock and she sobbed, so overwhelmed she could hardly breathe. His cock felt like it was splitting her in two, sinking into the wet, hot, sensitive flesh again and again. She felt like she was losing her mind. Fucking down hard onto him, she came again with a hoarse little cry.

Cassian’s breathing turned ragged as her cunt continued to clench around him in waves, and Jyn began to mouth softly at his neck and jawline. She was exhausted and covered in sweat, murmuring gently as she kissed him. He had stopped talking, instead opting to bite at her shoulder with increasing desperation

“Come on, darling,” she said, squeezing at his arse. “Please, you’re so close, I can _feel_ it.”

“Please, Jyn,” he begged. “Oh, please.”

She clenched her cunt around his cock rhythmically, making Cassian moan raggedly. “You’re mine,” she said quietly into his ear. She pulled sharply at his hair and he grunted. “I recognized you,” she said, licking and biting at his neck, “I recognized you right away. I knew, I knew even then: you were _mine_.” 

“Yes, yes,” he agreed, hands scrabbling at her back, hips fucking into her hard and erratic. He was sweating, right on the verge of coming. “ _Puta madre_ ,” he grunted. His hips stuttered and stilled, his hands clutching at her like a lifeline, and he came with a strangled grunt.

Both breathing heavily, covered in sweat, they stayed close to each other. Jyn, loathe to separate from him, made a wounded little noise as he slipped out of her. He cradled her in his arms, and brushed her sweaty fringe out of her face. Curled up against his chest, she kissed him languidly, basking in the quiet intimacy of the moment. She’d recognized him right away. She’d known, even then.

***

They sat in the tub later that day, Cassian telling Jyn about his trial as she washed his hair.

“I was in Kansas,” he was saying. “It’s awful there.”

Jyn snorted, working her thumbs into the spot behind his ears. Cassian slumped against her beautifully, sighing softly at the sensation.

She finished up. “Dunk.”

He followed her orders, and then the two of them slumped back against their respective sides of the tub. Jyn entwined their legs, luxuriating in Cassian’s presence.

“I’ve been working on my Spanish,” she said, smiling lazily. “ _Te deseo mucho_.”

“Still learning from love songs?”

“No, Joaquin is teaching me.”

He frowned. “Who’s _Joaquin_?” he asked grumpily. “And why do you need _him_ to teach you Spanish?”

Jyn snorted, and ignored him. “You speak _my_ language, I want to speak _yours_. How else am I supposed to understand what goes on in your head?”

“I’m here now. I’ll teach you,” he said moodily, though she could tell that he was pleased by her answer. “Besides, you don’t need Spanish to understand me. I am an open page.”

“Don’t make mistakes just to make me feel better.”

He smiled at her, and Jyn sighed happily. His quiet presence next to her felt like a column, a pillar, a foundation. What she had thought would be the ultimate weakness—this affection, this strange rawness she felt in between her ribs—has instead fortified her. Cassian, beside her: sharpness and warmth and the angular lines of his face. Eyes like burnished dark cedar. _Oh_ , she thought, _how soft he is making me. How strong_. She was aware of something in her being pried open, light and warmth blossoming in one great rush, filling her chest and her throat and her eyes. A tenderness she hadn’t known she’d been capable of, a fondness for this world that had been so cruel to her, rose in her like floodwater. _It was so beautiful_ , she thought. _So beautiful._ She let herself slowly succumb to its powerful undertow.

He, making patterns in the water with his fingers, didn’t notice her soft gaze immediately. But, eventually, he glanced up, and was caught by her eyes. Jyn had a sudden flash of him under her, that first night together, entirely at her mercy, offering himself up to her. _You have me, Jyn. You have me_. She wondered at how gentle and soft and sweet he could be, how careful and considerate, when he wasn’t baring his teeth to protect himself. Like one of those trick pictures containing two faces. A funhouse mirror. A bank vault with a self-destruct mechanism. She loved him. Oh, she loved him.

She smiled softly, crookedly, at him, fond and unable to help it.

“I cannot believe you asked some random man how to say _te deseo mucho_ ,” he said.

She ran her foot up his leg. “No, I looked that one up myself. That and _te extraño mucho_.”

He grabbed her foot and began to massage it gently, his face running through some complicated expressions.

“I’m sorry I was away for so long,” he said. “I—I had some things to sort out.”

“I understand,” she said. “I know that the CIA meant a lot to you.”

He looked at her, then, and for a moment she was afraid she had said something wrong. Though, he didn’t seem angry; his gaze was soft and open.

“What?” she asked, “What is it?”

He didn’t answer right away.

“I was thinking,” he said, “of how you’ve changed me.”

Her eyebrows rose in surprise. “Me? Changed you?” She chuckled a bit, and Cassian looked at her curiously. “Cassian, you’ve—” she hesitated, and then laughed again, a strange bittersweet sound. “You’ve changed _everything_. You’ve dismantled every last—every last defense I had—” Her voice was warm, amused, terrified, baffled. Everything on the table, and yet she didn’t really know what she was trying to say. “I’m sorry, I don’t always know how to say—” she tried, “All I know is that no one’s ever—No one’s ever made me feel like this.” Her voice went a little rough as she spoke. “I feel so lost, but then you’re next to me, and I know that I’m _safe_. Does that—does that make any sense?”

“Yes,” he said fervently. “Yes, I understand.”

“Without you—” she continued, halting, shy, unable to meet his eyes, “—without you, it was like—it was like you’d cut my heart out and taken it with you.”

“Jyn, I—” he began, cutting himself off. He leaned forward, then, eyes shining, and kissed her gently. His eyes were wild, roaming over her face, when he pulled back.

“It’s okay,” she whispered, tears dropping from her eyes, touching his cheek gently, “It’s okay. Just—just be gentle with it.”

“I will,” he promised, pinning her with his steady gaze. “I will.” He paused. “Jyn, I—” He cast about for the words, frustrated, thoughts running up against verbal limitations. “I don’t have the words in English, Jyn—in Spanish, maybe, maybe I could _try_ , _mi vida, mi amor, querida, mi cielo_ , it all means—it means that I’ll _follow_ you, Jyn. I’ll follow wherever you lead me.”

She felt as she had in his office those late nights—slow motion, without sound, the only two souls in the world. Tears were falling down her cheeks soundlessly, but she couldn’t find the words to speak.

“Does that mean you’re staying here with me?” she asked quietly.

“Until the end. Until all the stars go out,” he said. “ _Hasta la nada_.”

Jyn hid her face in her arm, smiling so much she felt like someone else. “Until the bitter end?”

“Oh, yes,” he confirmed. “And even after that.”

“Sometimes,” she said, “Sometime I get the feeling that we’ve been here before. That we’ve done all this before.”

“You and me,” he said, “we’ve met in every lifetime. I know it.”

“And will we meet in the next?” she asked.

He nodded.

“Good. Because I would do it all again.”

“Even if the end is bitter?” he asked.

 _Even if the stars go out_ , she thought _. Even if the ground turns to ash under our feet and the sky falls down on our heads._

“Even then,” she said.

He nodded in agreement. “Even then.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> quédate conmigo - stay with me  
> lo que quieres - anything you want  
> te juro - I swear  
> te deseo mucho - I want you so much  
> te extraño mucho - I miss you so much
> 
> I'm really going to miss these two :(
> 
> This story has been such a joy to write and I hope everyone reading has enjoyed! Thank you!


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